


Will you ever know me?

by FickleByNature



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: F/M, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23548759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FickleByNature/pseuds/FickleByNature
Summary: A week in the lives of pilots Misato, Ryoji and Ritsuko.
Relationships: Kaji Ryouji/Katsuragi Misato
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Welcome to what will turn out to be my longest published work as of April, 2020. As a heads up, I’m aiming for a word count of about 50k, with about 6 or so total chapters planned.
> 
> The skeleton for this story is more or less done, so expect updates every two or so going forward, depending on how life treats me. Regardless of circumstances, I’m dedicated to finishing this in an effort to not pollute the Internet with unfinished fics.
> 
> That said, I don’t have an editor other than myself, so please bear with any mistakes you may find. Enjoy!

“Misa-chan, be a dear and pilot, won’t you? You’re so good at it, like everything you do.”

Misato stamped her foot and the white room around them trembled, the news anchor on the TV flickering in protest.

“But mother, it hurts! It hurts and its gross and I don’t care if I’m good at it. I don’t to be good!”

“I know, dear, I know,” The woman’s thin lips curled into a smile. “They need you though, he needs you.”

“..But mother-”

“I believe in you, and I’ll always be, in your heart, in your memories.”

“Mother…”

The smile stilled. Then the gentle curve widened, jaw extending to support the growing rictus and reveal a horde of needle-teeth that seemed to stretch back into the woman’s stomach.

“Be a dear and pilot.”

Misato recoiled, pushing away at monster, but her fingers burst into blood on contact and her arms followed suit. The beast surged forward, its maw spanning the room, the city, the sky- 

_“Beep! Beep! Beep!”_

Misato lashed out-and her fingers were whole again, digging into something soft, not dagger-sharp.

Sucking in air, the girl climbed to her feet, and fell almost immediately as her foot slid on something slick.

After a few moments of flailing and panicking, she stabilized, and picked up the offending object with a scowl. Despite the creases she now sported, the busty babe draped over the hood of the Renault Alpine kept her perfect smile.

Misato set her aside, and navigated her way past a harem’s worth of similar looking models to her alarm clock.

_Beep! Beep! Be-_

Alarm silenced and adrenaline subsiding, Misato made her way to the door, gradually becoming aware of the assorted noises and smells that seeped through the walls of her room. As usual it seemed like she was the last to get up, but that mattered little as long as the bathroom was free-which thankfully turned out to be the case.

A quick brush of her teeth and a splash of cold water on her face later, she almost felt ready to face the day.

Back in her room, she flicked on the lights and went about preparing for school, which mostly amounted to her sweeping her school books and some pens into her backpack.

Supplies secured, she scanned her room until her eyes settled on her school outfit hanging from the door knob of her dresser. She moved to grab the outfit, but paused as she examined the seam that connected the right shoulder to sleeve.

Sure enough, the rip—a recent reminder of her growing body—had been mended, the stitching so seamlessly integrated it seemed to disappear the moment her eyes strayed from it.

She smiled, feeling a little guilty. Putting on the shirt seemed almost cruel, dooming it to join its crumpled brethren strewn across the floor, ruining it just like everything she touched…

“It’s too early for this,” she muttered to the room. “Too early to be awake, too late to back to sleep…not that it would do any good.”

The room held its tongue, neither acknowledging or contradicting her words, and she took it as a sign to finish getting ready.

As usual, the mirror that hung in the corner of her room confirmed what Misato had known since she was eleven; while not the tallest or the slimmest in her class, she could at least boast claim to have the biggest bust, a fact of others recognized, openly or not. Her hair was another mark of pride and target of scrutiny, reaching down to the middle of her back yet somehow resistant to the split ends that plagued her peers.

Misato gave her a mane a few cursory strokes of a brush out of habit, did a final once-over, and then made her to the kitchen.

Rounding the corner that separated the bedrooms from the rest of the house, she halted as she took in the sight before her.

Shinji was standing at the stove, humming softly, foot tapping and fingers snapping to some unheard beat while he worked a spatula around a pan of eggs.

He turned, eye widening in surprise before he pulled out his ear buds and returned her wide grin with a sheepish one of his own.

“Good morning, Misato.”

  
“Mornin’, Cap-uh, Major,” she replied. “Finished all that paperwork I see.”

The man scratched the back of his head as he set a platter loaded with bread rolls and sausages onto the table.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Super obvious,” she said, settling into her place at the table. “Remind me again why you can’t, like, get a secretary or something to do that stuff? Or have one of the techs do it?”

  
“I wish, but everything needs my signature, or at least needs to look at it,” he answered. “You wouldn’t believe what people try to get away with when they think you don’t check the bills they send you.”

“Like what?”

“Well, a little while back some guy working middle management over in the one of the construction companies we deal with tried to sneak in the loans he racked up for his startup,” he said. “Think it had something to do with was old world reclamation or spelunking. Can’t quite remember, but it was close to a quarter of a million yen.”

“No way…really?”

“Uh-huh. Nerv’s electricity bill alone is big enough on its own that you wouldn’t a sum like that notice without checking,” he replied, dropping off a plate of pancakes. “Elbows.”

Sliding her elbows off the table, Misato began loading her own plate with goodies. While she wasn’t overly fond of western foods, she had to admit that pancakes overcame all cultural boundaries.

“Coffee?” Shinji asked, presented a steaming pot.

“Of course.”

He tilted the pot and the heavenly liquid streamed forth to fill her cup…until it stopped halfway to the top.

She looked down, then flicked her eyes up at him, tapping her mug lightly against the table.

“C’mon, don’t hold out on me. Aren’t I your favorite?”

“First off, you’re both my favorite,” he poured himself a full cup. “Second, kids your age shouldn’t rely on coffee. It messes up your sleep schedule.”

Misato managed to stop her eyes rolling as her guardian sat down to eat.

_He probably read that from a parenting book_.

“I’m fourteen, Shinji, hardly a kid,” she huffed. “Besides, teens my age don’t pilot war machines or get hazard pay.”

Shinji’s opened his mouth to speak, but only managed to sigh as he topped off her mug.

Coffee attained, Misato promptly dumped in four spoonfuls of sugar, and indulged in the spike of energy that rushed through her as she nearly burned her insides downing it. The wince on her guardian’s face only served to sweeten the brew even further.

After ferrying the rest of the dishes to the table, the man laid a napkin in his lap, but didn’t move to pick up his utensils. Instead, he cleared his throat and moved his plate to the side, making room to lace his fingers together in front of him.

Misato immediately recognized the pose for what it was-“I’ve-got-news-you-won’t-like-kiddo”-and put her mug down, sorely tempted to dump even more sugar straight into her mouth as the lingering taste turned bitter.

“Your father wants to have a word with you after your sync tests today,” he said, his gaze holding steady on her face.

“My father,” she sucked her teeth. “Or ‘The Commander’?”

“Your father,” he answered, keeping his face and voice neutral. “This was off hours.”

“Tch, we both know he doesn’t have off hours,” she retorted, spearing a sausage with a fork, “I bet it not even important anyway. If it was he would’ve just told me himself, or put in my schedule. Or, just called me like, ya know, a normal person.”

“Misato, you know your father is a busy man…”

Misato managed to resist rolling her eyes again, though something in her face must have given her away because Shinji’s own expression began to soften.

“Which isn’t an excuse for how he handles things, believe me, I know,” his hands undid themselves slightly, giving just enough leeway to let him tap a trimmed nail against the table. “But you have to keep in mind your father is…”

_A workaholic pencil-pusher who_ _’d rather burn his eyes looking at screens than actually take command. Everyone knows it. That’s why no one turns to him when an angel attacks. They all turn you. He’s soft, wea-_

“…human. And while he is…fickle when it comes to non-work related matters, at least he does keep them in mind.”

Misato’s fork bit into another sausage, and she used the time it took to chew to mull over the description. Shinji had a point; her father was indeed human-to a fault-having the seemingly infinite capability for failure almost everyone seemed to share; him even more so.

_Does that mean he_ _’s good at being human, or terrible at it?_

“Whatever,” she declared with a shake of her head. “I’ll see what he wants _if_ I happen to run into him. That good enough?”

“Yes,” Shinji said, fingers fully unlaced to pick up tableware. “Thank you.”

Misato eyed her boss as he went about neatly cutting his food into bite sized squares.

“Shinji-san?”

“Hmm?”

“What was your dad like?”

Misato watched as his jaw slowed to a halt and his lips pressed into a frown; his remaining eye closing itself to the world.

As with the posturing and the finger lacing, Misato had learned in the roughly four months of she had lived with the man to keep an eye out for this particular expression—which she simply dubbed “contemplation”. That same amount of time had also taught her just how vastly his patience outweighed hers, and just how slippery he could be when answering a question.

So she waited, confident some sort of answer would come eventually as he had never outright ignored any of her questions—not yet, at least.

After nearly a minute of silence she was rewarded.

“My…” he started, then stopped, chewed, then swallowed. “Gendo was driven, single minded even, to the point he excluded everything that didn’t concern whatever he had his eyes set on.”

_Like you?_

“He-”

The word was bitten off as a yawn filled the air.

Misato scowled and looked behind her, to where Kaji shuffled forward out of the hallway, hand reaching under his shirt to scratch at his ribs.

Her fellow pilot plopped into his seat, then and bristled as he sipped the brew poured for him.

Lazy, lackadaisical, lethargic; all these words described Kaji so thoroughly that she had jokingly cracked open a dictionary to check if his picture wasn’t there next to them.

That said, he had at least managed to put on his uniform before coming to the table, though he hadn’t bothered to put his hair tie on, leaving his hair to drape down to the nape his neck. This was in stark contrast to the sparse smattering of stubby hairs on his chin, sparse enough that one could slide a finger between each of them.

_And you have. And they tickle when he-_

“Something on my face?” Kaji asked, smiling.

Misato blinked, realizing she’d been caught staring. Her scowl deepened as she turned back to her plate.

“Just that stupid grin of yours.”

“Play nice you two,” Shinji said, sliding a plate to Kaji. “Morning, Kaji-kun. Thank you separating the recycling last night.”

“No problem, Major,” Kaji eagerly dug into his food even as he piled more on. “If I’d known we’d be having sausage and eggs I wouldn’t have eaten so much last night.”

“I figured you might appreciate something you’d be more familiar with, given your time in Europe,” Shinji pointed a fork at Kaji’s plate. “How is it?”

The teen’s answer was a thumbs up and stifle a burp with his fist.

“Don’t be such a pig, Kaji,” Misato said.

“Says the girl with her bra strap showing,” he snorted.

Misato blushed and clutched at her shoulders, only to remember her uniform covered both completely.

She growled and swatted the boy on the arm, “Grow up!”

He shrugged, another self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face like butter, “You know, now that I think about it, I’ve never tried growing _down_.”

_There he goes again, trying to be clever._

Shinji shot the boy a warning look, but the effect was ruined by the slight smile he wore.

The rest of meal passed peacefully enough, barring the few times Kaji’s leg rubbed against hers. Whether it was a ploy to pester her further or if he actually couldn’t keep his gangly legs in order, she couldn’t tell; Kaji was irritating that way.

Regardless, she managed to finish breakfast without incident.

“Everyone full?” Shinji asked, standing up to collect the dishes.

She rolled her eyes, this time not bothering to stop this time.

“Check,” she and Kaji chimed together.

“Teeth brushed?”

“Check.”

“Phones charged?”

“Check.”

Shinji nodded with satisfaction, going through his pockets a final time before pulling out his car keys.

“Alright, let’s go.”

* * *

“Katsuragi?”

Misato blinked, turning her head from the window to the hobbled husk that was the history teacher.

“Uh, third impact?” She answered.

  
“No, Ms. Katsuragi, I can assure you Archduke Ferdinand was not assassinated by the Third Impact,” the teacher sighed, once again looking like an early retirement, or even an early grave, was preferable to what he was doing. “And I highly doubt he would’ve lived long enough to experience the event, had he not been shot.”

Pockets of snickers broke out around the classroom and Misato rubbed the back of her head, forcing a smile on her face. It’d been worth a shot, considering the old geezer loved to ramble on and on about the event whenever he deemed the class——or he himself—had lost interest in the current topic, which was often.

“Anyone else?”

The laughter died down, and in the posthumous silence the students waited, no one bothering to heed the call.

Five heartbeats passed, then Ritsuko raised her hand like a drawbridge at its sanctioned time. The teacher nodded to her and turned to board before she even spoke.

“Gavrilo Princip,” she answered, her tone relaying a considerable depth of boredom in a mere two words.

“Correct as always, Akagi,” the teacher praised, unperturbed. “You would do well to follow her example, Katsuragi.”

Misato bit her lip and grunted out something vaguely affirmative sounding. Meanwhile, Ritsuko was already back to hunching over notebook, not even bothering to acknowledge the kudos she’d been given, or the hole Misato tried to glare into the back of her skull.

That early morning exchange set the example for every class afterward, as it always did; the teachers would put forth some question or equation and their pet would promptly return with factoids or equations, as if they were engaged in some thinking man’s game of fetch.

The banality of the ritual forced Misato back to staring out the window to avoid falling asleep, until finally, mercifully, the lunch bell rang.

Misato immediately set to work on her bento, attempting to fill her stomach with fried pork instead of frustration. It worked out rather well…until a pair of chop sticks crept into the edge of her peripheral vision and made a go at a cutlet.

“Damn it, you have your own lunch, K-”

  
“Hey now, no need to snap at me,” Kiyomi pouted, withdrawing her chopsticks. “I promise to take only one bite this time, promise.”

Misato grunted at her friend, who in turn pulled up a neighboring chair and pulled her own bento.

“Did you see the new comedy show that aired last night?” Kiyomi asked.

“No,” Misato grunted. “Had to read up on safety protocols for work.”

“That sucks. Why’d you have to do that?”

The question was simple, and perfectly reasonable, but Misato’s ears could easily pick up on the strain underlying the other girl’s voice.

_Because I got so lost during the fire drill yesterday that Shinji-san called in a whole squad of Section 2 agents to look for me._

Outwardly Misato shrugged, making a show of relaxing as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Cause apparently it’s someone full-time job to just make up rules and shit, and everyone else just has to follow along,” she yawned. “I could barely make it past the second page before falling asleep.”

Kiyomi smiled, seemingly satisfied, and dropped the pursuit in favor of digging into her meal.

Misato took another bite of her katsudon and eyed Kiyomi’s lunch. Three rice balls, their lumpy textures betraying their rushed molding and lack of filling, met Misato’s gaze.

_Her father must still be in hospital,_ she thought, trying, and failing, to put together a timeline for how long a it would take for a leg to heal. _It_ _’s not like I can ask her without making an ass of myself._

The pilot of Unit 01 squashed the niggling feeling of guilt coiling in her stomach, and shifted her bento closer to her friend.

“Eat.”

Kiyomi shot her questioning look, which Misato pointedly ignored it.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Together they ate, settling into a comfortable silence as the various cliques chattered and prattled harmlessly around them; all of their words diffusing into an equally meaningless babble.

“Hey,” Kiyomi said, tilting her head to the side. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Huh?” Misato said past a mouth full of lettuce. “Who?”

“ _Them_.”

Misato followed her friend’s gaze until she eventually settled on a trio of boys sitting in the corner of the class.

Makoto had his laptop out and was talking excitedly about something—likely computer parts or a game—while Shigeru peered down at the screen and responded with matching enthusiasm. Seemingly oblivious to the other stooges, Kaji leaned back in an adjacent chair and making a fine effort to seem asleep.

_Or he actually could be asleep, knowing him._

“Those knuckleheads?” Misato said. “Tits and ass, probably.”

“Misato!” Kiyomi slapped her lightly on the shoulder, which Misato accepted with a grin.

“What? You know it’s true. That’s all they think about,” she insisted. “‘Boys will be boys’. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

Kiyomi shook her head in defeat, “True, double true.”

Misato turned her attention to the remainder of her food, but soon stopped as she noticed someone shuffling foot to foot two desks ahead of her. The shuffler caught her look and quickly turned away, but Misato wasn’t one to prey go so easily.

“Got something you want to add, Ibuki-chan?”

Misato smirked as the mousy girl squeaked _-_ honest-to-God _squeaked_ -but managed to stay composed as she turned to face her.

“I don’t think…I mean…” Maya said, shifting from foot to foot. “Not what all boys are focused on…body parts.”

“You mean tits and ass,” Misato corrected.

Maya blushed and Misato couldn’t help but relish the little blossom of sadism that bloomed in her at the sight.

“Hold on, wasn’t your brother just suspended for bringing porn mags to school?” Kiyomi questioned.

“Th-Those were his friend’s!” Maya said, fists balled at her sides. “They left him in his bag as a prank and he got caught.”

“A prank, huh?” Kiyomi shifted in her seat and winked so hard at Misato that half of her face scrunched up. “With friends like that…”

“They weren’t his!” the younger girl insisted. “Tell them, Senpai. You’ve met my brother, he’s a good boy.”

Maya turned her pleading eyes to the brunette she hovered over, but didn’t quite touch, twisting her hands together as she waited. Predictably, the girl continued to methodically write in her notebook, ostensibly tuned out of the world that tried to drag her into it.

_Does she ever stop sucking up?_ Misato thought with a scowl.

 _  
_ “Senpai?”

The pen stopped its incessant scratching, and Ritsuko rubbed her eyes before turning to finally take notice of her kouhai.

“As crudely as she presented it, Misato has a point, unfortunately” she said dryly. “Boys, especially those our age, have limited interests and an equally limited ability to think beyond those interests.”

Misato watched as Maya deflated and found herself almost feeling pity for the younger girl…almost.

“There you have it, Maya,” Kiyomi said. “Straight from the bookworm’s mouth. She would know too, given all the love letters she used to receive.

“Boys are perverts, end of story,” Kiyomi shot Misato another wink, though this one could almost be passed off as discreet. “But at least some of them are cute.”

“Cute?” Misato snorted and shook her head. “Did you change schools without me noticing?”

“C’mon, Misato,” Kiyomi said, eyes drifting to the side. “Even those knuckleheads aren’t too bad on the eyes.”

“I mean, Hyuga is a bit plain…but he’s sincere,” she continued, “And if you like long hair you get to choose between Aoba and Kaji.”

Misato frowned and glanced back at the trio; Kaji still hadn’t moved an inch.

“As his house mate and coworker I can tell you firsthand Kaji is nothing but a lazy pervert. If anything, he’s the standard that proves the rule.”

Kiyomi shot her a knowing look and Misato glared back, enforcing the look with bared teeth.

“Uh, so what about you, Akagi?” Kiyomi said, wisely choosing to back down.

Ritsuko paused in opening a pouch of what looked to be pumpkin seeds( _brain food_ , Misato’s mind groused) and it became apparent to anyone watching that she was debating whether or not to pretend like she hadn’t heard the question. After a few seconds, the debate must have ended in a compromise because brunette spoke, but deigned not to face Kiyomi.

“What about me?” she said.

“What kind of boys do you like?”

Misato couldn’t help but grimace as she noticed the people around them lean their way, eyes and ears honing in to receive whatever answer Ritsuko bothered to put out. She started to open her mouth but her own curiosity stopped her from redirecting them.

_What sort of person catches the eye of an egghead like her anyway?_ she thought. _Probably someone like Hyuga._

“Please leave me out of this,” Ritsuko said with drawn out sigh.

“Nice try, Kiyomi,” Misato cut in. “But our resident role-model only likes books, not boys, and they smartened up and noticed. I mean there’s a reason she stopped getting letters.”

“It’s okay not to like boys, Senpai,” Maya stepped forward, seemingly reanimated by the need to defend her idol. “I-I mean, they’re just, uh, intimidated by your intellect. You deserve someone who can appreciate that part of y-”

“-They’re ‘intimidated’ because she always acts all high and mighty,” Misato scoffed, stepping on the heels of Maya’s words. “Besides, it’s not like she does anything to stand out anyway.”

“Senpai is-”

The words were cut off as Ritsuko raised her hand and Maya obediently shut up.

“Thank you, Maya, but it seems this is a simple misunderstanding,” she said. “Misato seems to have confused being high and mighty with merely having standards.”

Ritsuko’s turned in her seat, and cast her trademark I-can’t-believe-I’m-still-dealing-with-this gaze at Misato.

“But, she is correct in saying I don’t stand out,” the girl’s voice took on a strange tilt as the words tapered off. Then it heightened as it made it’s return, bordering on defiant. “Yes, my assets are brains, not my breasts, but I’m assured it’ll take me much farther in life.”

Misato grit her teeth as the space around them broke out in the tell-tale low _oohs_ and _ahs_ that were inevitably sparked from their clashes.

“Well that brain of yours sure hell as doesn’t make you a good pilot,” she shot back.

To Misato’s satisfaction, it was Ritsuko’s face turn to clench her teeth, her hand trembling as it curled around her pen like a dagger like a dagger.

“Now now, what’s all this commotion about? Some of us are trying to catch up on our beauty sleep.”

A figure slid its way past Misato’s left flank and a moment later her eyes took in Kaji leaning against Ritsuko’s desk.

“We were just talking about how you had no boundaries, Ryo-chan,” Ritsuko sighed, prodding at his hand with her pen.

“Hmm, I can’t say I agree with that Rit-chan,” he said, moving to drape his arms around her shoulders. “I very much have boundaries. They’re just rather…thin.”

Rather than shrug off the embrace, Ritsuko leaned into it, quietly conforming to the curve of his body.

Oh, but it didn’t stop there. Kaji’s hand dug into the bag of seeds and returned with a palmful, from which Ritsuko fussily picked a select few. He murmured something, and she answered with an affirmative click of her tongue.

If either of them took notice of the stares directed their way, they paid them no mind.

The beginning of a growl stirred at the base of Misato’s tightened throat, more than a few choice words queued to erupt in its wake, but another voice proved faster.

“U-Unhand Akagi-senpai, Kaji-kun,” Maya stuttered out, orbiting the two like a meteor threatening ruin. “Your behavior is inappropriate, a-and I’ll report you if you don’t stop.”

Kaji leaned further, lowering his head parallel to Ritsuko’s until they appeared to be some two-headed ogre.

“Ah, Maya-chan, I can ensure you there is nothing inappropriate going on. I’m merely engaging in conversation with a classmate and co-worker,” he entreated. “And be a dear and don’t go running to the student council. They’re not my biggest fans.”

“But what say you, Rit-chan?” he asked, offering another palmful of seeds. “Am I bothering you?”

Ritsuko huffed, quickly scribbled something in her notebook and lifted it for him to see. Kaji scratched his chin, chuckled, and then slowly released his hold on her before languidly straightening out.

He swiveled on his heel, at last laying his eyes on Misato.

“Ah, Katsuragi, t-”

Misato opened her mouth, but once again found her voice beaten out, not once, but twice, as the bell rang and the teacher reentered the room.

“Alright everyone, Lunch is over. Return to your seats,” the teacher announced. “Ryoji, Katsuragi, Ikari-san called. He should be arriving soon to pick you two up.”

* * *

Despite being a bona fide layabout, Kaji could move shockingly fast when he chose to. Whether in battle or goofing off during soccer practice, her fellow pilot always surprised Misato when he actually put his body to work.

Now however, that hidden side of him irritated Misato to no end as he strode straight to the exit, leaving her alone to gather her things.

“Hey,” Kiyomi whispered with her hand cupped to her mouth, “That thing your friend was asking about last weekend…is she going to try it?”

Misato glanced at the door to the classroom; Kaji didn’t reappear.

“We’ll see,” she grunted.

Misato left the classroom and soon found her inconsiderate house-mate leaning against the entryway of the lobby.

She moved to grab his shoulder, but stopped as she realized his attention was focused on something in the parking lot. Misato took quick step back into the building, adjusting herself so her new target didn’t have a direct line of sight of her, and squinted.

As expected, Shinji was already waiting for them, ever easy to spot thanks to his height and Nerv-issued black car parked a respectful distance from its peers.

What wasn’t expected, and what made stop Misato in her own tracks, was the fact that he talking to woman—a rather _pretty_ woman.

In comparison to her guardian, Misato guessed the woman was only slightly taller than herself, though it was hard to tell with how stood behind the man and the billowing white dress that teasingly flashed the toned legs underneath. Misato respected the boldness in choosing such a dress; a simple spill or slight brush against anything remotely dirty would transmute the tasteful ensemble into a used napkin. And yet this woman looked pristine from head to sandaled toe, her skin not even betraying a sheen of sweat.

The low-cut dress, Misato also noticed, did a _great_ job of showing off her freckled shoulders and a decent amount of cleavage, something Shinji also seemed to have picked up on as his head subtly bobbed back and forth from her face to the rest of her.

While Misato stared, a giggle floated it’s to her, as light and airy as the summer breeze that carried it. The woman moved to rest her hand on the Major’s upper arm while the other tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear.

Shinji raised his hand to hers, easily engulfing it with his long fingers, and smiled back.

“Who is she?” Misato whispered, not daring to have her words carried back to the pair.

“Huh?” Kaji said, finally seeming to take notice of her. “Oh, hey, Katsuragi, have you seen that lady before? You’ve known the Major longer than I have.”

“I just ask-” Misato glowered and clenched her fist.

_Boys will be boys._

“No, I don’t know,” she said. “And I won’t know if we just stand here _gawking_.”

Misato punctuated the word by pinching his arm, leaving him to gripe indignantly as she marched forward.

The woman quickly noticed her approach and waved; Shinji turned around, hands falling away to stuff themselves in his jacket pockets.

“H-hey you two,” Shinji called out. “Ready to go?”

Misato slowed her advance as she drew near, using the time to gauge the mystery woman. Though her boyishly short hair and crooked nose kept her from being the classical definition of Japanese beauty, they did little to detract from the cheeriness that seemed radiate from her smile; a smile Misato couldn’t help but reciprocate.

_And her eyes are almost the same shade of blue as the Major_ _’s,_ Misato noted after a second pass.

“Been ready,” Misato pointed her chin at the newcomer. “She coming with us?”

“Oh no, no, she’s-”

“Kirishima Mana, at your service,” the woman said with a curtsy, her voice as chipper as the giggles had indicated. “You must be Shinji’s children. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you two.”

_His children?_ Misato cocked her head to the side, digesting the words. _I mean, I_ _’m called ‘First Child’ and Kaji’s the ‘Second Child’, so I guess we kind of are?_

“We’re his wards, not his children,” Kaji corrected from behind her back.

“Apologies,” Mana bowed slightly, giving a Misato a peek at her admirable cleavage. “Shinji here was vague on details. The last time we spoke he was still a bachelor and then I hear he’s taken in two kids.”

“How do you know him?” Misato said.

“Oh, we served in the JSDF together,” Mana said. “We went through a lot, didn’t we, Invincible?”

“Wait, you were in the JSDF?” Misato turned to her guardian and Kaji mimicked the motion.

It was Mana’s turn to cock her head, eyebrows raised at Shinji. He stiffened and met the look head on, hands still buried.

In the span of seconds, Misato watched as an entire conversation played out across the faces of the two adults in a series of the twitches and twinges. Mana’s facial language seemed almost exclusively composed of pouts, while Shinji favored the micro-frown and furrowed brow. Unfortunately for Misato, the most she could glean from the silent conversation was that Mana _appeared_ apologetic about whatever it they were ‘talking’ about, but the curl of her lips invited a second guess.

“I did serve in the JSDF,” Shinji stated at last. “Prior to joining Nerv.”

A lively jingle filled the lot, leaving both Misato and Kaji to look around in confusion. Mana sighed, reaching through the window of Shinji’s car to pull out a tasteful looking purse, and dug up a phone from its depths.

The woman swiped her finger across the screen in a drawn out pattern that made Misato’s head vaguely ache, then huffed.

“Drat! Looks like I have to be on my way,” Mana said, turning her unnaturally white teeth on the teens. “It was nice meeting you two.”

She shifted her gaze back to Shinji with a bat of her eyelashes, “And you, of course. Try not to be such a stranger this time, okay?”

“Likewise,” Shinji said, extending a hand.

Mana’s pout returned as she eyed the hand. Then she stepped forward to embrace him in a full-on hug, “I know it’s sudden, but do give some thought to what we talked about, won’t you? It would mean a lot to me.”

Shinji’s hands clenched and unclenched before awkwardly patted her back, “…I’ll check my schedule.”

Mana released the man after two more squeezes and flashed the three of them a final dazzling smile before walking away. Misato watched in fascination as her caretaker’s eye followed her toned calves cross the asphalt to a cute little buggy of a car.

Reminded there was another male present-one she was still pissed at-Misato looked over her shoulder, and was surprised to find Kaji’s focus wasn’t also glued on the woman’s figure. Instead, his was on their guardian’s inscrutable expression.

“Major?” Misato prompted.

The man jolted in place, fumbling slightly as he opened the car door for them, “Y-yes, right, time to go…Either of you seen Akagi?”

“She said she was staying behind to study,” Kaji said. “Section Two is going to pick her up later.”

“Not that she ever rides with us, anyway,” Misato muttered under her breath. “Thank God.”

Shinji tipped his head towards the school, eye narrowing in some vain attempt to pierce through its walls.

“I see…seat-belts on?”

“Check.”

“Good, off we go then.

* * *

As the car merged into lunch-time traffic, Misato fell into the usual routine of fidgeting and bouncing her leg up and down. Across from her, Kaji yawned, his knee drifting to softly knock against hers.

She ignored it, and the look he tried to shoot her.

_I bet he_ _’s wondering why I pinched him. Well he can figure that out by himself._

Putting the bothersome boy out her mind, she focused on the man behind the wheel, contemplating how best to confront the charming elephant in the room.

After a few moments, she decided subtlety would never be one of her strengths and settled for a direct attack.

“So,” Misato started, keeping her voice neutral. “Mana, huh?”

Shinji’s blue-gray eye flicked up to catch her in the rear-view mirror, then darted back to the road.

“Yes, that’s her name,” he replied, his fingers starting to drum out a lively rhythm against the steering wheel.

“You were army buddies.”

“That’s right. She’s also one of my oldest friends, actually.”

Sensing a opening, Misato pressed forward, “Is she an old friend like Aida-san from the tech crew, or an old friend like Inspector Sohryu? Were you close?”

Shinji’s impromptu rhythm slowed, losing some of its liveliness.

“We all served together in the same unit, eventually, though it was Kensuke who was the first to sign up,” Shinji said. “I actually haven’t seen Mana, or anyone else from JSDF, in years.”

Misato frowned, her train of thought yielding to examine something on the tracks.

“Wait, you served with Aida-san?”

  
“I did…why?”

“Well,” she rustled up the few memories she had of running into the bespectacled techie. “I thought he was always, I don’t know, _anti_ -war. He’s got those pictures of him protesting on his desk and he’s got those hippie-dippie stickers all over his laptop.”

“You see…Kensuke signed up to make a name for himself, and help people, I suppose…but that exactly didn’t pan it, at least not in the way he wanted,” Shinji sighed. “Being at the bottom of the totem pole means you rarely get a choice in where your deployed, or what you do, military or not.”

“Tell me about it,” Misato muttered to herself.

Nerv, with its adherence to structure and regulations, had long since taught her that lesson—on her first day, no less-then continually rubbed her nose in it like an unruly dog. World saving pilot she might be, she was merely a grunt in the eyes of the adults around her, and a teenage one to boot.

“So why did Mana suddenly show up out of the blue?” Misato pivoted. “She a stalker or something?”

The tempo lagged further, becoming a floundering heartbeat.

_You_ _’re digging at something, s_ _omething that_ _’s supposed to be scabbed over_ a voice in her mind warned. _Stop it or you’ll lose him._

“No,” he said slowly. “She’s actually on the board of directors for the school. Just found out myself actually.”

Misato leaned back in her seat, pondering her next angle of attack. To her surprise, it was Kaji who decided for her.

“Ikari-san, why did _you_ enlist?” he asked.

“Me?” Shinji patted his chest. “The few friends I had were joining up, and being fresh out of high school it seemed to make sense since the entire school system was still a mess,” he grimaced. “…and I didn’t want study for studying’s sake, or work towards something I didn’t care for, though I really didn’t care for…anything at the time, truth be told…So it just seemed the obvious choice at the time.”

“And what did you do while you served?”

Shinji’s fingers ceased their tapping, and Misato watched as the muscles in his face slackened to leave only a unnerving vacancy.

The car rolled on without so much as a sniffle passed between the riders, leaving the muffled sounds of the downtown to press in on the, like blood pumping through an ear.

Gradually the car flowed up an arterial highway, abandoning the heart of city and it’s noise——but that only left Misato to wallow in the silence left in its wake.

Misato nervously picked at a stray thread on her skirt, making an effort to not look at the void that her guardian’s face had become. Kaji kept his head down, repeatedly trying to smooth out unseen wrinkles from his shirt.

Then Shinji barked (growled? choked?), making both pilots jump in their seats, and it took Misato a moment to realize the sound may have been laughter.

“I contributed to anti-angel countermeasures, fat lot that ended up achieving,” Shinji’s face regained its texture, and Misato saw the anger etched into his returning features. “ _Billions_ of yen, euros and dollars down the drain, three years of my life wasted…good people dead…”

His jaw clenched and shuddered, lips curling back in a snarl.

“…all because _he_ couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

Silence enveloped the car once more as it was swallowed by a tunnel cut into the side of a familiar hill, and Misato found herself saturated in red from the lights overhead.

A massive steel door soon blocked their path; the imprinted Nerv logo bearing down on them with its ominous motto: ‘God is in heaven. All is right with the world’. Shinji popped open the glove compartment, pressed a square of plastic against the windshield, and waited.

Distant whirring sounded from all sides, and apparently appeased, the door slid away, allowing the car to lurch forward and rest on a massive conveyor that slowly rumbled to life.

“Listen,” Shinji declared in the gloom, nearly causing Misato to jump again. “That’s a misguided reason to do things…acting on something just because your friends are doing it, I mean.”

He turned in his seat fully to take in Misato’s face, then Kaji’s-his intense gaze holding them captive until he was certain he had their attention.

“Decide for yourself what you do with your life, understand?” he continued. “Even when there only seems to be one choice presented to you, there’s always the option to _not._ Take that to heart, you two.”

“A-alright,” Misato shivered. “Sir.”

“I hear ya, Major,” Kaji said, turning away.

“Good,” Shinji turned back, posture rigid as the car sank into the preliminary levels of Nerv. “Now I don’t expect you guys to be run through the full gauntlet, but steel yourselves just in case.”

* * *

Misato shifted in her seat, grimacing as she tried the stifle the paranoia that she’d emerge from the entry plug as orange the liquid she was submerged in. She doubted she would ever get used being in the bizarre cockpit; how the LCL pressed against her at all times, or the coppery taste it left in her mouth.

“Are we done yet?” she said, thumbing the com button.

Dr. Ayanami’s soft monotone pushed through the liquid, somehow seeming to both surround Misato and pierce her ear drums.

“Patience, Pilot Katsuragi. We are almost done calibrating.”

“My ass is getting sore,” Misato grumbled.

“Noted.”

Misato stuck her tongue out at the doctor’s apparent catch-phrase and stretched her legs as best she could, “So how am I doing, Doc? Still kicking ass?”

“Your sync ratio has continued to improved, averaging at sixty-two percent and peaking at sixty-nine percent.”

  
Kaji’s snort drifted into her ear, and Misato couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“What about mine?” Kaji asked.

“Your scored averaged out at fifty-five percent, with a peak of fifty-eight.”

“And what was Akagi’s?” Misato inquired.

“Fifty percent, up from forty-six percent as of her last test.”

_So I_ _’m still head and shoulders of little Ms. Perfect, but she’s starting to catch up._

Misato frowned at the thought, but relaxed as she heard the tell-tale hiss and shudder of the entry plug being disengaged.

“We are finished with testing for today,” Ayanami said. “Please standby until the LCL is fully drained.”

Gradually, the orange fluid, pumped in from god-knows-where, drained away to who-the-hell-knows, leaving Misato to shiver and sputter like a fish forced from its blood-warm pond. She thumbed the side of her nose thumb and made to eject a glob of snot, but hesitated as part of her suddenly wondered whether or not they recycled the fluid.

_Have to cut costs somewhere I guess,_ she clucked her tongue and grimaced at the slime that coated her it. _Shinji-san would probably know._

Misato climbed out of the plug, ignoring both the subtle and not-so-subtle gazes directed at her from the various crews scurrying about, and made her way to showers.

Slowly peeling her plug suit off her body, lest she risk uprooting all her body hair, the pilot of Unit 01 wondered what sort of fetishist had designed the damned things.

Skin-tight and glossy, the plug suit always looked and felt perversely slick, which made Misato feel as though she had stepped out a kink shop, or was some bloated eel with legs-sometimes both. It certainly didn’t help that all the seams directed the eye to her most vulnerable areas, including the cups that held her breasts—both colored a bright blue in contrast to the plum theming. To make matters even worse, moving the wrong way caused it the material to bunch and hitch, meaning she was always overly conscious of how she moved outside of the plug.

_At least I_ _’m not the only one who has to dress up like some fancy gimp, s_ he thought as she dried herself off. _I wonder how Kaji feels about it._

Tossing the towel in the hamper, Misato narrowed her eyes at the opaque partition that separated her from the boy plaguing her thoughts.

Kaji’s suit was halfway peeled halfway off the silhouette of his body, which made him resemble a peeled banana. Misato started to laugh, but stopped as she noticed his hand was propped against the locker, head bowed to the floor.

“You alright there, Kaji?” she called. “You’re not jerking off or anything, are you?

The boy jumped, head snapping in her direction. Then he crossed an arm over his chest and made a ‘shooing’ motion with the other.

“Hey now, I don’t give free shows,” he said demurely.

Hands on her hips, Misato stepped forward and puffed out her chest, and was pleased to see his head lower to idle there.

“Don’t take too long,” she ordered. “I want to go home and relax.”

“Alright, alright,” she could hear the smirk in his voice. “Lemme finish powdering my nose and we’ll find Ikari-san.”

Misato nodded, patted down her hair with another towel, and left.

Unfortunately for her, the search immediately turned sour as she took in the sight of The Commander laughing as he exited the elevator…with Akagi at his side.

_Teacher_ _’s pet, Commander’s pet,_ a voice growled in her mind. _They really should put a collar on that bitch and be done with it._

Suddenly she felt the urge to turn around and go back to teasing Kaji, but that thought withered away as quickly as it was born as the reasoning part of her mind kicked in and did its job. Knowing the man before her, he’d simply seek her out again at some point, or rather send Shinji to carry out the job, again.

Besides, Misato was never one to back down; only cowards and people in over their heads did so.

“No use delaying the inevitable,” she muttered to herself.

Striding forward, her school shoes slapped hard against linoleum, doing the favor of announcing her presence.

Ritsuko was the first to look up, her laughter faltering as she caught sight of Misato’s sneer. Her fath- _The Commander_ quickly caught on and turned, his laughter dying away as well.

Bloodshot eyes regarded Misato with their usual weariness, though the bags under were less pronounced than usual. The characteristic stubble on his face was gone, given way to a multitude of scabbed over nicks and scrapes, which made the errant patch of hair below his ear all the more obvious.

The overall result was that the forty-something-year-old man before looked quite a bit younger, and oddly naked—a thought that made Misato’s skin crawl.

“I should be going,” Ritsuko said, breaking the silence. “Your insight was very helpful, Commander, as always. Please do remember to re-shave when you have the chance.”

The Commander of Nerv HQ scratched at his chin and grinned, “What would I do without you, Ritsuko-chan.”

The girl departed without so much as a second glance at her fellow pilot, leaving the Commander to turn his full attention to Misato.

  
“Daughter,” he greeted.

“Commander,” she said flatly.

She crossed her arms…and waited.

  
He scratched at the offending strip of hair…and waited.

Misato smothered the need to scream and instead transferred the energy into tapping her foot, “Major Ikari said you wanted to speak with me.”

The man’s eyes blinked once, twice, then slowly widened in realization.

“Ah, yes, I was hoping to touch base with you tomorrow,” he patted his jacket pocket, groping for the mini itinerary and fountain pen she knew lived there. “Perhaps over lunch?”

Misato bit the inside of her cheek; spending the little time she had off from school and work with the man before her was not how she not something she looking forward to. Perhaps when she’d been a child, still hopeful, still _naive_ …but now…

“I should be available from noon onward,” he announced after scanning the little notebook. “What time would you like to meet?”

_Key Words:_ Should be.

“2PM” she settled.

He clucked his tongue and scribbled, “A little late…but it’ll do.”

_If you have issues with the time then why bother giving me the choice?_

“Where are we eating?”

“I’ll make reservations at a little seafood I’ve been ordering from recently,” the corners of his eyes creased as though he was relinquishing a trade secret. “They’re quite good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Misato pulled out her phone to set an alarm for 1PM—better safe than sorry. “So, 2 pm, seafood joint, you’ll be there.”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” he confirmed. “I’ll make sure to inform the Major so he can drop you off.”

Misato nodded and started to move aside, but the Commander lingered.

“Never late, The Major, that’s why we hired him,” he said. “Though tardiness would only be a _minor_ issue _,_ all things considered…haha…”

Misato stared at the man, and wondered-not for the first time-whether sleep deprivation had finally ruined him.

“What? If he showed up late, or if anyone did, we might die. _Everyone_ might.”

  
The Commander shuffled his feet, averting his eyes to the hall Akagi had disappeared down.

“Oh, er, you see-”

“Commander Katsuragi, a word, sir.”

Someone called out from outside Misato’s field of view, and the older Katsuragi visibly relaxed as he promptly brushed past her with a muttered excuse.

Misato looked at her phone, counted backward from twenty, then exhaled slowly through her nose.

“You alright?”

She turned and found Kaji leaning against the wall, watching her.

_I want the Commander to keep his word! I want to know what more about Shinji-san without him potentially freaking out! I want to know why he freaked! I want to know why you_ _’re so chummy with Akagi!_

“I…I’m fine,” she grunted. “Come on, let’s find Shinji-san.”

* * *

Dinner—a simple spread of grilled mackerel, rice and salad—would’ve been uneventful, were it not for the fact both Misato and Kaji had front row seats to their CO blatantly break taboo.

“Hey, Shinji?” Misato asked, resting her elbows on the table.

“Yeah?” he said, alternating between fiddling with his phone and trying to feed himself.

“…I’ve been thinking about getting my belly button pierced.”

“Alright.”

Misato glanced at her other house-mate, who returned her surprised look with of one his own before winking.

“…And I might get a tattoo while I’m at it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m either going to get ‘juicy’ on my left butt cheek, or an octopus like this lady I saw online,” she put her wrists together and wriggled in fingers in an imitation of tentacles. “The mouth is going to be my as-”

“Misato!”

Misato giggled as her guardian sputtered and shot her a disapproving look.

“’No phones at the table unless it’s an emergency’,” she recited in a sing-song voice. “I’m pretty sure those are the rules.”

Still red-faced, Shinji put his phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sor-I’ll do better,” he said. “Just waiting on some news.”

“Good or bad?” Kaji asked.

“We’ll see,” Shinji straightened in his seat, hand raised in a reassuring gesture. “Nothing for you guys to worry about, it’s just-.”

His phone vibrated, jittering towards the edge of the table.

For a moment, his expression smoothed over like it had done in the car and Misato braced herself for another outburst.

The outburst never came however. Her guardian’s face instead settled into a look of…resignation(?).

“I know this is sudden, but could guys handle the dishes?” Shinji said, standing up. “Something came up and-”

“-And you’re never late, that’s why they hired you,” Misato finished.

Shinji gave her an odd look, then smiled as moved to check himself in the hall mirror.

“I’m starting to think you know me too well.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing…” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Don’t stay up too late now.”

“That’s my line,” he reached out to ruffle her hair. “Now, I should only be gone for a couple hours, but make sure to lock the door.”

After pointing out the list of emergency numbers taped to the fridge and a triple-check of the alarm system, Shinji left.

_To good news, or bad, who’s to say?_ Misato thought as she pressed her ear to the door.

While Shinji’s car was well maintained enough that it didn’t rattle and whine like it’s some of its peers, it made enough of a distinctive noise that Misato was able to hear it pull out of the parking lot and cruise down the street.

Misato smiled and strode back into the house, warmth spreading outward from her abdomen each step.

“It’s your turn to do the dishes, just so you know,” she said to Kaji, who was already in the process of clearing the table.

“Not like I can leave you to do it with the way you handle it” he replied, watching her walk further into the house. “But you can help me them dry at least.”

“I’m going powder my nose.”

“Alright, make sure to light a match or something.”

Misato grunted in disgust and tossed a fork at him, which he dodged with a laugh.

As she went about her business, Misato tuned out the sounds coming from the kitchen and strained to pick up any indication The Major had decided to turn around and ruin the evening she now planned.

To her relief, no such indication came in the time it took for her to finish up, so she went to her room to finish preparing.

Stripping off her usual nightwear of a shirt and sweatpants, she exchanged them for an over-sized chemise that reached down to the mid-thigh. A brief skim of her panties offered no stand-out contenders, leading her to forgo them completely.

Dressed, she opened a drawer in her dresser and palmed a small jar before making the short trip across the hall.

Kaji’s room-formerly Shinji’s-maintained it’s usually atmosphere of being dim and cool, and perhaps in honor of its former inhabitant, was also unnervingly clean.

Sure, there was today’s homework spread across the desk and a stray sock hung off the side of a laundry basket, but compared to her own lodgings it downright spartan—which only served to highlight how much space the bed and it’s occupant seemed to take up.

The occupant in question was laid on his back, hands in their default position behind his head, giving no indication that he’d heard her enter.

Misato opened her mouth to announce herself, but instead chose to enter without a word.

Circling the bed, Misato took inventory of the room: a surfboard propped up in the closet, a framed picture of a smiling Asuka posing over some mountain vista, a baseball cap set on a little stand (one she had never seen him wear, or any hat for that matter)—all things that bespoke of the life Kaji had led before he had met her.

Gradually, she corrected her trajectory until she stood next to the bed, looking down at him.

She coughed into her fist; he didn’t stir.

She coughed again, loud enough for it to echo; Kaji didn’t so much as twitch.

Scowling, Misato climbed onto the bed, putting a hand on either side of his head as she straddled his waist.

At last, he opened his eyes, briefly meeting her gaze before tilting his head to stare directly down her shirt.

“Nice.”

She squeezed her legs together, digging her knees into his sides.

“Pervert.”

“I know you are,” he retorted, smirking, “But what am I?”

She didn’t dignify the question with a comeback, and instead rolled over onto her back, shifting until she lay between him and the wall.

After a moment of adjusting, she reached up and draped his arm across her shoulders. He squeezed her bicep lightly and she turned to tuck herself into his side.

As she moved into position, Misato felt something brush against the back of leg; she reached down to retrieve whatever it was.

“It” was a book, caught snugly between the mattress and the wall, and were its cover not a dead giveaway to its contents, its title sure was.

“’ _A Practical Guide To Bonsai_ ’?” Misato huffed, turning the book towards Kaji. “Already having a mid-life crisis, huh?”

The boy turned his head to rest his chin on her head with a yawn, “It’s for a school project.”

“I must have missed when they assigned it.”

“Says the girl who spends every class looking out the window.”

“At least I don’t take naps like we’re in preschool or something,” she shot back, digging a thumb into his ribs.

“I’m only _half_ asleep,” he said. “The other half of my brain is razor focused on black board. It’s Multitasking 101, really.”

“Uh-huh.”

Misato stretched and dropped the book to the floor, then settled back into place with a sigh.

“Hey,” she said, rapping her knuckle’s against Kaji’s sternum. “How much do you wanna bet that “business” the Major is up to is that Mana lady?”

Kaji scratched his chin and frowned.

“What makes you think that?”

  
“C’mon,” she rapped again, harder. “An old friend, who happens to be hot, shows up out of the blue, makes fuck-me eyes at the Major and he suddenly has ‘business’ to attend to? The same Major who we know doesn’t drink, doesn’t party, and works from home whenever he has the chance?”

Misato reached up to trace a finger along Kaji’s jawline, “I mean, good for him, but it’s so obvious I almost don’t want to believe it.”

“You’re probably right…But regardless,” Kaji said, running a thumb down the back of her arm. “You think that Mana is hot. Got something you want to tell me?”

“What? I can appreciate beauty when I see it, nothing wrong with that. Don’t think I didn’t see you also staring when we first saw her.”

He shrugged, “Great minds think alike I suppose.”

Misato verged on another accusation of ‘pervert’, but stopped as a thought came to her.

“So, think we should tell Sohryu-san?”

Kaji shifted beneath her and though she couldn’t see his face, Misato could feel how his body tensed in response.

“Why? They’re not together anymore.”

“Sure they’re not, but she always finds some excuse to hang around him, like when she invited herself to our trip to the hot springs,” she countered. “Call it woman’s intuition, but she totally wants to get back together.”

  
“It’s none of our business.”

He emphasized the line with another shrug and let go of her arm, which caused the pleasant warmth she’d been nursing to become doused in guilt.

The fiery redhead was supposed to be Kaji’s caretaker- _his_ Shinji-but she had barely seen hide nor hair of the woman in two weeks; a fact compounded by an already spotty record of public appearances.

That said, though they shared the Major as a reliable source of support, Misato also had the aunt and cousins that had raised since she could tie her shoes, and who obnoxiously crowded her phone’s screen during their weekly calls.

…And she also had the Commander, even as ‘fickle’ as he was.

In contrast, the relatives Kaji mentioned from time to time were never spoken of without any real fondness or depth, as if they were merely distant rain clouds rather than people.

As far as Misato knew, Kaji had no one else.

_No one but me._

“Maybe you’re right, it’s not our business,” she said, pulling his hand back to her. “And listen, I’m sure Sohryu’s probably putting some U.N bigwig in a headlock or something, and she’ll come back with a story to tell and some souvenirs like she usually does.”

Misato was relieved to feel the muscles under her fingertips tremble as Kaji chuckled.

“That does sound like her.”

“Hey,” Misato said, craning her neck up at him. “This is the perfect chance to kiss me.”

“Hmm, very well,” he hummed softly, then pressed his mouth softly against her hairline.

“On my mouth, smart-ass.”

He chuckled again and reclined back for a better angle; in a flash of insight, Misato was reminded of how he had deployed the same tactic earlier that day.

Misato craned her neck towards his offered lips, and then nipped at the lower one, briefly holding it hostage between her teeth before letting go.

“Ouch!” Kaji touched the wounded lip with all the shock and awe of someone who’d been stabbed in the back. “What was that for?”

“I just remembered I’m mad at you!” she scowled.

“Aren’t you always?”

“Yeah, but this time I’m pissed!”

Kaji squinted in some apparent effort to read between the words that lingered between them.

“Can I at least know why?”

“Cause you were throwing yourself all over Ritsuko today!” she growled.

He sighed, “That’s it?”

“That’s it?” she echoed in a parody of his voice. “Look, I know we aren’t-”

She clenched and unclenched her hands, as if she could threaten her own brain into providing nuance.

_“-together_ , but you know how I feel about you being flirty to her, _and_ you know how I feel about your pet-names for each other!”

Kaji’s frown deepened, but it quickly inverted into a lopsided smile; the same grin that had a sordid history of disarming her-as it did now. His fingers slid along her shoulder and started rubbing circles into her back, and Misato cursed her body as it squirmed and writhed.

“You’re rather cute when you’re angry.”

She started another growl, but it degenerated into a moan as he continued to work his magic.

“I’m not jealous,” she managed to breathe out. “And what? Are you saying I’m not normally cute?”

“You’re usually beautiful.”

Trapped between his fingers and his smooth words, Misato found her voice failing her, so she launched her own attack-hand sliding down his stomach to tug at the waistband of his pants.

The maneuver was stopped in its tracks however as Kaji gripped her wrist.

“At least take me to dinner and a movie first.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she laughed as she tugged at the band, but his grip held firm.

“What’s wrong?” She bent her neck to sniff at her armpits. “Is it me?”

He averted his eyes, “I’m…it’s just been a long day.” 

Misato sucked her teeth at this new hurdle. For better or worse, sex-at least the kind she wanted-required consent _and_ enthusiasm.

“That’s okay,” she sat up, moving to straddle him once more. “I’ll be on top this time.”

“Listen, I…” he faced forward, studying her. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?””

She took his hand from hers and pushed it between her legs, letting him feel the wetness and heat that had built up.

“One week, two days, two hours,” she hissed out. “Twenty minutes, give or take?”

Rather than dig into her further, he withdrew and reached to uncurl the fingers of her left hand, plucking the jar from her grip.

Kaji scrutinized the label in the dim light granted to them by the moon and clucked his tongue, “Coconut oil?”

Misato took off her shirt, using it as a screen to hide the blush spreading across her face.

  
“I wanted to pick up where we left off,” she said, baring her breasts to him.

Concern colored his expression, staining the emerging arousal.

“You said it hurt though…”

“It did,” she admitted. “But it felt also felt good, almost as good a-”

“-A-anyway, it’s easier than buying condoms from vending machines I’ve practiced with my fingers and I already took care of the clean up,” she gushed out. “Your dick, my ass. Let’s do it!”

To her delight, he leaned forward, strong hands guiding her so that their positions were reversed—she on her back with him hovering above. While doing it behind carried its own thrill, she wanted to see him enter her, _needed_ to his face contort in pleasure before everything became a torrid slurry of thrusting and grinding.

“Are you sure about this?” he said, unscrewing the lid off the jar.

Brushing aside her growing irritation, Misato gave her answer by way of tucking her shirt under her hips and reaching for him between her legs-and was pleased to find him stiffening.

Slick fingers prodded her, and she grit her teeth as the ring of muscle reluctantly rolled inward. However, this time there was little friction and no sudden sharp pain-no feeling of seemingly being split in half-leaving only that feeling of _fullness_ that had dominated her thoughts for weeks _._

“ _Yes_ , just like that,” she coaxed. “Now give the real thing.”

He obeyed and she cried out as he slowly began to bury himself into her-

-then stopped.

“I swear to _God_ Kaji, if you keep teasing me I’ll slap-”

“-I-It’s not that…” his head strayed to the side. “She’s watching us.”

Misato turned, and through the gloom was confronted by the smiling visage of one Inspector Sohryu. Standing proudly over a picturesque landscape, the woman continued to grin at Misato, as if whole heartedly endorsing what was going down.

A uneasy chill ran up Misato’s spine at the thought of having their intimacy being watched, even by picture.

_But I_ _’m here and you aren’t._

“Let her watch,” she declared. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

He withdrew a bit, then slowly pushed forward, and blessedly didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed.

Misato cupped Kaji’s face and watched as the lingering resistance melted away into ecstasy.

“Besides, I’m sure she can keep a secret.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, this was beta-read by Glory-To-Our-August-King. Infinite thanks and more to them for doing so.
> 
> I had hoped to not join literally everyone and everything else in being delayed, but what can you do? 
> 
> In recompense, this chapter should prove more interesting than the last, and is longer to boot, so enjoy.

Misato opened her eyes, then immediately shut them as the sun did its best to burn them out.

_At least I woke up before my alarm,_ she thought, yawning.

Her hand snaked forth to grab at the troublesome device-and found nothing, not even the carpet fibers. She tried again, reaching further, and her entire arm flopped over the edge of the mattress.

_Mattress?_

Misato made another attempt at opening her eyes, and found she was indeed sleeping on a mattress, not her futon, and just how this wasn’t her futon, the room she was in definitely wasn’t hers.

Also, unless she was horribly mistaken, the third arm draped across her chest _definitely_ wasn’t hers.

The extra arm in question pulled her closer into her other body, smothering her with warmth.

_Other body?_

She turned to find Kaji murmuring into the side of her neck, chin hairs prickling her skin.

“ _Shit_.”

The curse cut into the still air of the room like a gunshot and she scrambled upright before it could echo back to her. Unfortunately, the process proved difficult as she had to peel her naked body from her partner. Kaji tried to cling to her, but a quick shove saw an end to that.

“Is it breakfast already?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“No, idiot, it’s not brea- _Shinji!_ ” her eyes darted to the door as she scrambled to cover herself. “Shit shitshit-”

“What?”

“We fell asleep! It’s-!” she reached out to Kaji’s desks and snatched up his phone. “-10:32!”

“Oh…That’s not good.”

“No shit, Kaji! What are-”

His hand clamped down on her mouth and she nearly bit it in protest.

“Stop yelling,” he cupped his other hand to his ear and tilted his towards the door. “And listen…”

She did, straining to pick up the sounds of clanking pans, snapping fingers, and the humming of some upbeat pop song.

She heard none of those; the only things she could pick up on were the pounding of her heart and Kaji’s breathing.

“Think he’s still asleep?” Kaji whispered.

“Don’t know, can’t hear anything,” she frowned. “But I guess we’ll find out, one way or another. Now help me find my panties.”

“You didn’t wear any,” he said.

_Oh, right_.

“Hold on, Shinji sent a text at…2 am,” Kaji said, leaned his phone towards her. “‘Won’t be home ‘til morning. Sorry! Brush your teeth and be good.’ Kissy face.”

“What?”

“‘Won’t be home-”

“Give me that,” she snatched the phone back from him and stared at the screen. The message was word-for-word as her bedfellow had recited it, and yet something inside Misato rankled as she read it over.

The girl pursed her lips in concentration, but soon gave up as she felt Kaji staring at her.

Huffing, she tossed the phone to the bed and was the verge of getting out of bed if Kaji hadn’t grabbed her by the arm.

“Hold on,” he jerked his head towards the door. “He’ll _definitely_ know something is up if he catches you come out first.”

“Right, good thinking.”

Kaji slithered out of bed, stooping low as he gently opened the door and stuck his head out, looking left, then right. Ten pounding heartbeats later, he opened it wider and stepped through.

  
Twenty more heartbeats saw him return, giving a thumbs up.

Misato relaxed, finally allowing herself the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Her freedom was tantalizingly close, yet Kaji lingered beside the doorway, blocking her path.

“What?” she asked.

The teen scratched the back of his neck and looked to the side, “How’s your-er, I mean, are you…how are you feeling?”

“I’m…” Misato started, and found she couldn’t meet his eyes either. Now that her mind wasn’t engulfed in panic, she forced to reckon with the other sensations that were pressing on her mind-namely the ones informing her that between her cheeks lay an oily mess. The hole itself ached only a little-a far cry last time’s throbbing cry-but what was even more concerning, and what stilled her tongue, was that she could feel it faintly pulsing in time with her heartbeat, as it were alive and calling out to be filled. It certainly didn’t help that every movement of her hips made the entire area stick and slide in decidedly vulgar fashion.

In short, she felt gross, shameless, raunchy, and slutty-but most of all: _used_.

…And yet that didn’t bother her. She had asked for this-even begged for more as a rhythm was established and Kaji’s name degraded into a mindless chant-and he had indulged her, repeatedly. Every thrust of his hips and growl from his throat had driven her deeper into a cesspit of pleasure, and she had wallowed in it like a pig in mud.

But now she left knowing this obscene pleasure was easy to obtain, and that boy before her was the key to it all…the same boy who ran hot and cold on her at the drop of a hat.

How could she ever concede that much power over herself to someone so fickle?

“…fine. Good, actually,” she said. “Y-you did good too. We should do-”

Something _thunked_ somewhere beyond the walls of the room and cut off her sputtering. Both teens stared wide-eyed at each other, then Kaji all but her pushed into the hallway and retreated back into his room.

Misato shuffled her feet across the carpet, not daring enough to risk being betrayed by a mere footstep.

As she passed by her guardian’s room, a low moan behind the door made her stop in her tracks. Curiosity and Concern welled up within at the miserable sound, but every other voice in her head clamored at them to shut up and urged her to keep moving.

However, those voices were quiet in comparison to the duo, who moved her hand into knocking on the door.

With the deed done and her fate all but sealed, Misato waited, standing her ground as she prepared for Shinji to reveal himself and see through her facade.

The door didn’t open, but instead groaned at her pitifully.

“Major? Shinji?”

The follow-up response was an intelligible mutter and a faint sniffle.

Despite the protests building within her, she slid the door open by a hair, allowing a sliver of the hallway light to bisect the gloom within.

Like Kaji’s room, the former storage closet was orderly, though it somehow felt even emptier despite being half the size. The space was mostly dominated by a wooden desk that sat in the far corner, its surface taken up by a monitor that sat between two bins stacked with folders.

In the other corner, the Major lay curled up on his bed, ostensibly dead to the world were it not for the slow rise and fall of his chest, and the spit bubble that fluttered at the edge of his lips.

Were she not afraid his eye would suddenly snap open and put an end to her foolishness, Misato might’ve found the scene cute.

_He must_ _’ve come home and collapsed,_ she reasoned as she noted he was still wearing the same clothes he had left with. _But when exactly did he get back?_

Misato moved forward, hoping a closer look would shed some light on the question, but halted as her foot nudged against something.

She looked down, and was confronted by of a group of strangers crowded before the hull of a ship. No, that wasn’t quite right; she recognized some of the faces that peered back at her.

The first one to catch her attention was Asuka, who appeared to be standing on some platform out of frame, unless the woman had shrunk at least half a foot since the picture had been taken. That aside, her hair as red as ever and her trademark scowl in full effect as she glowered down at the people below her.

Directly under Asuka was Mana, of all people, her hair slightly longer but still short, her nose straight and smile ever exuberant. The brunette’s arm was intertwined around that of a younger Shinji, who looked on with _both_ eyes, his face sporting the same self-conscious smile he favored to this day.

Other people crowded around the three, and while Misato recognized what might have been Aida with glasses, her eyes were drawn to a pale arm wrapped around Shinji’s other arm, severed clean at the shoulder.

A shiver ran up the girl’s spine, nearly causing her to drop the picture-a second later her brain kicked in, chiding her.

_It_ _’s not a ghost, dummy, the picture’s just folded._

That it was, though that didn’t explain why it was that way to begin with. Her eye lingered on the phantom limb and her brain continued churning.

_It’_ _s probably Ayanami. Who else could be that pale?_

It seemed the obvious answer, but that judgment felt wrong the moment it bubbledthe surface of her thoughts. There was a notable difference in height between the shoulders of her CO and this mystery person, so it couldn’t be the quiet doctor, unless she too was also standing on something Misato couldn’t see.

“Who are you?” she whispered to the picture.

“Mhhm?”

Misato jumped, dropping the frame to floor as her head snapped upward to take Shinji rubbing his eyes.

“Misato?” he yawned, winced, and then massaged his temples with a deepening grimace. “What are you doing up so late? Another bad dream?”

“N-no, it’s, uh, it’s 10:40…am,” she managed to stutter out. “We, uh, I was worried. Didn’t hear you come back last night.”

He stared at her-his good eye offering a reflection of her yellow shirt, while the other retained its milky void.

“Wait…AM?”

Shinji dug his hands into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone, grunting as the screen blazed to life and illuminated his haggard face.

“Damn it,” he hissed, dragging his hand across his face. “Has anyone called? I was supposed to be there at eight.”

“Shinji, it’s Saturday,” she said, doing some quick mental math to reassure herself. “You usually don’t work today, remember?”

He lifted his head further; face contorting as he doubtless did his own set of calculations.

“Oh…that’s right,” he put his phone down and massaged his temples. “Well that explains why I’m not looking at hundreds voice-mails.”

He sat up with a groan, joints popping and creaking with every little movement.

“Is Kaji up?”

“Uh,” her mind raced, but her tongue continued to hesitate. “H-How should I know, I mean I’m not his keeper or anything, but I’ll check if you want.”

  
“No, that can wait. Have you eaten yet?”

Misato shook her head, and slowly took a step backward.

“Alright, give me a few minutes and I’ll get started on something. Sorry for…” he gestured at his wrinkled clothing with a grimace.

“That’s alright,” she replied, keeping her voice low-though with the extra effort, her voice still seemed too loud in the cramped space. “Although, it looks like you didn’t follow my advice.”

“What?” He frowned. “Oh, right. I, uh, actually managed to finish early and got dragged around town by the night shift. It was…nostalgic.” A blush spread from his cheeks to his nose, and he scratched it as if to ward it away, “Sorry I wasn’t able to reach guys.”

“Anyway,” he said, starting to stand. “If you don’t mind waiting a bit for breakfast, I’m going to take a shower.”

Misato made to move aside, but the motion caused the mess in her rear squish in a way that forced her to halt place.

“Actually, can I go first?” she pleaded.

“Sure, go for it,” he nodded at her, but then cocked his head to the side. “Actually, Misato?”

“Yeah?”

Her guardian surveyed her with a narrowed eye, the rest of his body tensing as it shifted into what Kaji had nicknamed “mother hen mode”. Normally Misato would’ve only struggled with the slight urge to squirm under the intensity, but now the pressure was unbearable; if he moved any closer then she was sure he’d be able to smell the reek of sweat and oil.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“W-why?” she stuttered out.

“Well you’re standing kind of oddly.”

_Well Captain, that_ _’s cause I’m pretty sure that if I make a wrong move I’ll end up staining the floor with the leftover lube and jizz that’s keeping my ass crusted together. Wouldn’t that be something?_

Misato chose not to voice that thought, and went with the next thing that came to mind.

“I… uh think I started my period.”

To his credit, her guardian didn’t cringe back as she had expected; his face softened, and he accepted the lie with a nod.

“Ah, well let me know if you need anything. Sanitary stuff, heating pad, oh, there should still be some ice cream in the fridge.”

Misato couldn’t help but smile at his naked concern.

“Thank you, but I think I can manage for now.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to take a rain check today.”

Misato cocked her head to the side, “For what?”

“The lunch today,” he reached for his phone and grunted again as it once again blinded him. “We’ve still got time to kill before I drop you off. I can just tell the Commander you caught a cold or something.”

_That_ _’s right; I’m supposed to “touch base” with him._

“Right, right,” she recovered her composure with a shake of her head. “I mean, no, there’s no point to dodging him. I know he’ll just try and set up another meeting, and be late to that one too.”

Shinji nodded, “I understand.”

She retreated with another bow, and quickly shuffled her way to the bathroom.

Once on the toilet, Misato was thankful to discover her ass wasn’t as much of a mess as she had imagined, although being certain meant agitating the area further. Although she was now clean, her body tingled with obscene energy.

_I wonder how porn stars videos manage to do this all the time._

But how often did they really do it? Porn wasn’t a nine-to-five sort of job, as far as she knew, but research had also taught her there were all sorts of “genre specialists”. That said, she was almost sure those people also had sex off camera, so that meant they got practice in between shoots, right? How long did it even take to shoot a porno?

Misato’s face smoldered as more and more questions swirled in her mind, and they all inevitably circled back to memories of last night. Though she’d been “exploring” with Kaji for over a month, it was only now that she realized that she’d been participating in something she’d only associated with adults.

With that revelation in mind, she stepped into the shower, and found the hot water felt mild against her burning skin, and did little to divert the deluge of questions.

How would’ve Shinji reacted if he walked in on them last night? Would he have been mortified? Disgusted?

“He’d probably throw a blanket over us…” she murmured to her face cleanser. “Make us put on clothes and march us out to kitchen so he could give us “The Talk” or something like that.”

Their guardian had never broached the topic of sex, but some sliver of instinct within her knew it was inevitable; the man was both too protective, and was too meticulous not to. Regardless, the hypothetical situation hadn’t come to pass-the Major had been too busy feeling “nostalgic”, which she had no doubt meant hanging out with Mana.

But was that all that they’d been up to? Merely having a get-together didn’t account for him staying out so late that he had crashed until almost noon.

_Chances are they went to dinner and a movie, and then hit up a hotel, probably on her suggestion,_ she thought. A _ll under the guise of time away from_ _“the children”._

Which begged the question: Did she also do anal? If so, what sort of prep did she do? Did he help out in anyway? And when he finally laid into her, did she cry out ‘Shinji’, or ‘Major’?

Misato giggled-then stopped as she noticed the lingering ache in her backside had migrated to her front.

“God, what’s wrong with me?”

She twisted the shower knob, nearly screaming as cold water bit into her hot flesh. The ache in her lions didn’t subside; rather, it intensified into a sharp pain, as if her insides were trying to form a fist.

Misato looked down and watched as a trail of red trickled down her leg and spiraled down the drain.

“Speak of the fucking devil.”

* * *

  
“Reservation for two, under Katsuragi.”

The waiter hummed, taking her sweet time looking for the name everyone in town knew. Whether the woman was genuinely ignorant, or was putting on a show to make the restaurant seem busy-a quick glance around revealed it wasn’t-Misato couldn’t tell, and didn’t care.

While she had quickly discovered Nerv was more than a little tight-lipped about its inner workings, she knew it couldn’t hide that it was the city’s largest employer outside the actual government, and that its leader was more or less a public figure. She also knew that the man practically lived off take out and tipped heavily, making him a favorite of every restaurant of whatever city he happened to be in. Misato idly wondered if any of the delivery people actually made it to Nerv proper, or if its leader sent out Section 2 like glorified errand boys.

_Probably the latter, knowing him. Being separated from his work may as well be a sin._

“Ah, yes, Katsuragi,” the woman finally said, perking up. “I apologize for the delay. Follow me, please.”

The table the woman led them to was situated in a corner by a window, its peers conspicuously out of earshot of this apparent pariah. Whether or not the Commander had arranged it that way to prevent eavesdropping, or whether it was meant to give a sense of privacy, Misato could only guess. What she was sure of was that The Commander wasn’t there, which meant she’d be left ripping up napkins while she waited for the inevitable text saying that she had wasted her time, again.

Misato slowed her pace as she approached the booth, tempted as always to simply turn around and walk out; she quickly decided that she actually would have done it, if Shinji hadn’t been there to witness her desertion.

And so the teen sat down, and to her dismay discovered the napkins turned out to be cloth, not paper. The menus were paper, but laminated, which barred any hope she had of doodling the time away.

Resigned to a fate of boredom, she sighed and leaned against the window sill. To her surprise, Shinji sat down across from her and began inspecting the silverware.

“You’re still here?” the teen questioned.

“Figured I’d keep you company while you wait. We’ve still got a good ten minutes before he’s supposed to show up,” He nodded to himself as he set aside a fork, then looked up at her. “Unless you’d prefer otherwise?”

Misato smiled. Even when he was doing someone a favor, Shinji always gave an out.

“No, you can stay,” she said. “Thank you.”

The waiter returned, slender glass cylinder of water in tow, the kind all the upscale restaurants seemed to use no matter the prefecture, no matter the city.

“May I take your order?”

Shinji’s eyes flicked to the menu, and then out the window, “I’ll stick with tea, for now. What about you, Misato?”

Misato’s insides twisted in on itself, shooting out a fresh wave of pain into her lower back.

“I’ll stick with tea too,” she said.

The waitress retreated with a bow, and Misato took the opportunity to look around. The second story was just as empty as the first, which wasn’t too surprising since it was past the lunch-rush, but that only served to make their table feel isolated.

Shrugging, she turned back to her dining partner and idly wondered how the two of them must’ve looked through the eyes of the other patrons. They certainly didn’t look like parent and child since they looked nothing alike, which also ruled out being siblings. With those options off the table, coworkers passed through her mind before being quickly dismissed; she doubted anyone would think her old enough to hold down a job, or even attend high school.

_Compensated dating, perhaps?_ her mind suggested.

A vision willed itself to the forefront of her thoughts; she was waiting outside the mall, picking at the hem of in her skirt as some black car smoothly pulled up beside her, its tinted window withdrawing just enough to allow a single eye to survey her. Terms would be set, money would change hands, and she’d be whisked away to some mid-tier restaurant similar to the one she now sat in-or at least that’s how she imagined such an exchange would go down.

_But Shinji would never do that_ _…or would he?_

She risked a quick glance at the man as he accepted a teapot from the returning waitress. The way he had looked at that Mana lady meant he wasn’t a total herbivore, and the charged atmosphere whenever Sohryu appeared spoke volumes on its own.

_How well do I really know him?_ Misato scanned her bosses’ face, and realized she wasn’t even sure how old he actually was. _Late twenties, probably, though the lack of facial hair means he could be older_ _… hold on, did I ever get around to asking him how he lost his eye?_

_You did_ , _the day after the first angel,_ another voice in her mind chimed in. _He tried making a lame joke about running with scissors, then apologized when you cringed. Then we went to that donut shop. He never actually told me why._

Misato chuckled at the memory; seeing her stern cyclops of a CO suddenly fret over her had been endearing, to say the least.

“Something wrong?” Shinji asked, filling their cups.

“Just remembering that time we got donuts.”

Shinji chuckled and settled back into his seat, “Time sure flies, doesn’t it?”

Misato nodded, a quiet soon settling, and it proved a fertile breeding ground for a new crop of questions, ranging from the inane to the absurd.

The teen’s tongue itched and twisted to voice these inquires, but the memory of Shinji’s vacant face and bitter words kept it behind her teeth. Was picking at that scab within him worth satisfying her curiosity?

_He writes up those reports about me and Kaji doesn_ _’t he? It’s only fair I get my due._

“Shinji…what was your dad like?”

His teacup stopped halfway to his mouth, “Pardon?”

“Your dad,” she said, hearing her voice lose some of its confidence and hating it. “I mean, you started talking about him yesterday, but you never finished.”

The fingers of his right hand flexed and curled into a claw-but to Misato’s relief, they never formed into a true fist.

“Well…like I mentioned before, he was driven,” he blew away a curl of steam. “Which I guess is a polite way of saying he didn’t pay attention to things that didn’t directly concern him, or what he wanted.”

_Like you._

Again, those unspoken words lingered in the air between them, and Misato grimaced as a twinge in her chest resonated with the one in her loins.

“He initially did what all fathers did. He fed me, put a roof over my head, and put me through school-all that sort of stuff. That was until my mother died. Then he, I don’t know, stopped pretending to care,” The claw withdrew, tucked itself away under its sibling. “No, it’s more like he found what he wanted in Ayanami. Whatever kindness he had left in him, he reserved for her.”

Misato frowned, leaning forward.

“Wait, Dr. Ayanami?”

“Yup,” Shinji tilted his head so that the afternoon sun lit his face. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Misato squinted at her guardian, mentally overlaying an image of Nerv’s placid doctor over his.

Yes, she could see it now; their eyes were different, and his jaw was obviously more masculine, but otherwise the facial structure was eerily similar. How had she not seen it before?

“She’s your cousin. No, sister?” Misato guessed.

“You were right the first time,” he said with a twerk of his lips. “Though not too surprising you didn’t realize before. It’s not something that comes up often given we have different last names, we tend to stay out of each other’s way.”

Misato considered the statement, and after a moment found it to be true. She had rarely seen the two together-while they were on the command deck, she was usually in her Eva-and had never seen either of them go out of their way to talk to each other.

As the implications of this newfound insight dawned on Misato, Shinji continued.

“Ayanami is from my mother’s side and also happens to be the spitting image of her, so I guess it made sense they’d get along,” he picked up a spoon, frowning at his reflection. “Though I always thought they were a little too close.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” his wrist flicked brusquely as if to shoo off the question. “You know what? If I’m really being honest, Gendo as always a bastard, no matter how you looked at it. You want to know what his last words were to me were?”

“What?”

The major leaned forward, and Misato mirrored the motion, ears straining to listen as the compassion in his voice degraded into something stern and inflexible, like a stone in the middle of a river.

“I can’t bring myself to love you. From the moment you were born I was jealous of all the love your mother poured into you.”

Misato opened her mouth, but for once words wouldn’t come. No pressing question, no flash of insight-not even a stutter. Instead, a chill gripped her entire body, cold enough that it overrode the hot streaks radiating from her core.

What would she do if her father were ever to say that to her? Would she stare at him in disbelief, scream at him, walk out on him? Or maybe she’d just sit there in shock, as she did now.

“I…” she searched for words, failed, “That’s fucked.”

Her guardian leaned back and chuckled, though its bitter undertones projected anything but mirth.

“Language, young lady.”

“Sorry.”

“But yes, you’re right, it was…messed up,” he said. “I paraphrased a bit since he had a lot to say that day, almost like he knew what was going to happen and had to let it all out. Had to put me down one final time…”

Shinji took a sip of his tea, his eye losing its focus as it became engrossed with the dark liquid.

“So… what you’re saying is…” Misato grasped for the right words, and discovered they hurt to even consider. She ejected them, lest they fester and rot within her. “…that it would take my father to be on his death bed before he finally talked to me, to actually be honest about how he feels?”

Her guardian stared at her with furrowed brow…and then dragged his hand across his face with a groan.

“God no,” he said, “Look at me running my idiot mouth.”

He reached forward to clap her hand in both of his.  
  


“Listen, Misato, your father doesn’t _hate_ you, at least from what I can tell,” he said. “He…how do I put it…Do you remember after the second angel, when you got fed up with up with me and you tried to move out?”

Misato sniffed and nodded. With her first stipend fresh in her bank account, finding a place of her own had seemed easy-at least until she had discovered she didn’t have an actual ID, or an agent, or a guarantor, or any of the seemingly endless things apparently needed to even be considered for a lease.

In the end, she had managed to move into a unused utility closet located deep in the bowels of Nerv. Between the food served in the cafeteria, the showers being available 24/7 and her little nest of blankets and hoodies, she’d a good thing going for two days straight.

“How does anyone afford to live here?” she asked.

“The government practically paid people to move here when it was first built,” he answered. “Anyway, I admittedly didn’t know how to treat you then, given how you were already so self-sufficient, unlike me at that age.”

“You still are, by the way, self sufficient I mean,” he patted her hand and Misato warmed at the praise.

“Your father is the same way I was, except rather than try, he busies himself with work so he doesn’t have to think about it. Although, he has made a few attempts,” he gestured around them.

While Misato chewed on the words, Shinji shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

“Do keep in mind you’re not responsible for him, or how he acts, or how he feels. He's an adult, not a child.”

He shifted again, face contorting.

“But at the same, try to understand where he’s coming from…Otherwise you might find yourself somewhere down the line wondering if you should’ve tried.”

He sighed and gently squeezed her hand.

“Am I making any sense?”

Misato wanted to say yes-the logic was sound and rather reasonable-but a niggling thought hastily wormed its way out of her mouth before she could voice her agreement.

“What if I try to understand him, and I still don’t like him?”

Shinji frowned, tapping a nail against his cup, then a moment later, he shrugged.

“Well then you can always start your own family, and swear not make the mistakes he did. Simple as that.”

_My own family_ _…_ The frown passed to Misato as she considered the idea. _That means finding a partner, getting married_ _…having kids._

An image of Kaji naturally came to mind. In the afterglow of one of their early sessions, he had skirted around the topic of “going steady”. It made sense, on paper; they already lived together without any major issues and even managed to share the few chores Shinji didn’t take care of himself. On top of that, they sucked and fucked like how she had seen lovers in movies do, so more than half the equation was pretty much solved.

That said, in the same way Shinji was an enigma, Kaji was worse. The night after they had coordinated to beat the sixth angel-through synchronized swimming, no less-had been her real introduction to the boy, and he had revealed just enough of his anxieties and physique to spark a fire in her loins. In hindsight, thee awkward tumbles that eventually lead to their first time seemed almost inevitable given their forced proximity, and empathy borne of the unique burden they shouldered.

However, ever since then her fellow pilot had kept his cards close to his chest-which she was okay with, so long as he kept his body close to hers.

Ultimately, she had done her part of skirting around an answer and tabling the topic indefinitely. The idea wasn’t unappealing per se-it was just that even entertaining such a far-off fantasy only detracted from the pleasure of the present.

_And do I even want kids?_ The teen looked at her caretaker and how he waited painfully. He was a prime example that someone could care for children and not be married, which rendered the whole ritual even more pointless in her eyes.

_It seems like a pain the ass no matter what you try. But still_ _…_

“…I’ll keep that mind. Thank you, Shinji-san,” she reached for her tea, but stopped as another thought came to her. “Um, if I did start my own family, after the angels and everything…would you still be around? I mean, to call and stuff.”

Shinji grinned, giving her a hand a final squeeze before withdrawing, “Of course. We look out for each other, don’t we?”

“That we do,” she returned the grin with a wider one. “You know, Shinji, I think you’d make a great dad someday.”

Whatever response Misato had anticipated—him rubbing the back of his neck,or reaching forward to ruffle her hair—wasn’t what she received. Rather, what she got was a front row to seeing his face collapse in on itself: his smile faltered, his nose crinkled, and his widened eye became a portal through which she could The Scab ooze out the blood that had filled his expression.

“…Thank you, Misato-chan,” his lips made an attempt at curving, but only managed to spasm like an engine sputtering in its death throes. “But you and Kaji are more than enough for me…Ah, there’s the Commander now.”

Misato looked out the window, and sure enough, there The Commander was, being let out of a black van as he shielded his eyes from the sun.

“Call me if he doesn’t have Section Two take you home,” Shinji drained the last of his tea and stood up sharply, rattling the dishes as his knees hit the underside. “And I don’t think it needs to be said, but please don’t tell him what we talked about. I’d like to keep my job and stay with you two.”

Misato reached a hand out to him, wanting to say something, anything to dispel the tension in the air- but she hesitated; guilt pushing her forward, and holding her back.

She compromised, making a zipping motion across her sealed lips, and he smiled-truly smiled, complete with squinted eyes bordered by crow’s feet.

The Commander soon emerged from the stairwell, and the men greeted each other, exchanging pleasantries and snippets of empty small talk about work or whatnot. There was nothing in their words or body language to indicate that Shinji had all but accused the most powerful man in Tokyo-3 of being too cowardly to face a child.

_Can one person really know another?_ Misato wondered as the head of Nerv HQ settled in across from her.

“I apologize for my lateness, I-” he began.

_-got caught up in an unexpected meeting,_ Misato mentally completed.

“- _got caught up in an unexpected meeting._ ”

Once upon a time, during the few summers where Misato had been flown to see the man, she’d been privy to such meetings. Someone would flag her father down and lead him to a board room crowded by grim-faced men in suits, uniforms and lab coats, all sitting around a table made of some heavy wood. Her father would watch someone fill a dry-erase board with figures and numbers, too polite to break away as the sun drifted across the sky, or too engrossed to bother paying it heed, or the girl half asleep in the hallway.

“It’s alright, we didn’t wait that long,” she lied. “What was the meeting about?”

“Budgeting and infrastructure,” he said, wiping his reading glasses. “Dull things you wouldn’t be interested in.”

_I bet Ritsuko would be interested._

Misato bit her tongue at the unbidden thought and simply nodded.

The Commander opened the menu and adjusted his spectacles, sniffing slightly as he ran a finger down the appetizers.

“Have you eaten yet?” 

Misato’s stomach quietly gurgled and she interpreted.

“No, but I’m hungry.”

He made a clucking sound in what could’ve been annoyance, hailed the waitress with a wave, then sent her scurrying back with a few words and finger-jabs at the menu.

With her gone, the man sniffed twice more, then coughed into his fist-the age-old opening signaling Misato to mentally braced herself.

“So, how are things at school?”

_My grades haven_ _’t gone down, but they haven’t improved either. I’ll never be valedictorian, and I don’t want to be. You know this already._

“It’s fine.”

“And at Ikari’s? Are you still quarreling with Kaji-kun?”

_We both know that you know how things are going, so why bother asking? Can_ _’t you ask me something…real?_

“Things are good. Shinji worries too much, but I’m there to keep him in check,” she said with a smile. “And Kaji still puts on AC too high, but otherwise he’s less obnoxious, I guess.”

Her father’s eyes briefly met hers, and she saw, or rather, perceived something shift behind the red-tinged brown of his irises. However, whatever it was, or had been, quietly disappeared as he grunted, and rolled on with the questioning.

“And how is the Major? Any troubles? Concerns?”

_Didn_ _’t I just tell how he was,_ Misato thought, caught slightly off-guard. _No, there_ _’s something else I can’t quite put my finger on._

_“_ Shinji is Shinji,” she offered.

The Commander’s face stiffened and his lips curled downward, apparently dissatisfied with her answer.

“That’s not quite what I meant,” he said. ““Has he been acting…strangely?”

Misato felt lips form a frown as she considered the question. Obviously this morning had been an anomaly, but why give her father anything to use against the one who acted more like one than he did himself?

“No, Shinji’s great,” she insisted. “He listens to my problems, makes time for me, and he’s always on time. That’s why you hired him, remember?”

The politer side of Misato warned too late that her words were too out of step with the rest of the conversation, but the rest of her was satisfied at seeing The Commander stiffen in place.

“I apologize if my lateness has made you upset,” he said.

Misato shrugged, “I’m not upset about that, really, I’m not. You being late was a given.”

“Then what is the matter?”

She gritted her teeth at the sheer gall of the question. The nonchalance in his voice alone was enough to grate on her, but the utter lack self-awareness in his face made her already molten guts churn and explode and her lips to peel back.

“Hmm, let me think,” she growled. “It could be that my workaholic dad, who I only see three times a year, flies me out just to tell me to pilot his giant stupid robot, a robot that _hurts_ to pilot, or else everyone on earth will die!

“Misato-”

“Or it could it be he apparently adopted another daughter and didn’t tell me for four years!”

“Misa-”

“Or it could just be all this seafood everywhere makes me want to throw up!”

“Misato.”

“What!” she barked, plates rattling as she slammed her hands on the table.

His eyes shifted to the side, but his head didn’t move.

“You’re causing a scene. Control yourself.”

Misato stared at the man, the hot buzz that infested her brain turning his face a blurry mess…then she turned to where he was looking.

The smattering of other patrons had their eyes on their meals, doing what they thoughtwas their best attempt at ignoring the far-off corner of the restaurant. A select few were brave enough, or nosy enough, to openly gawk at her, although fewer still kept at it as her gaze swept other them.

At the edge of it all, their waitress held a serving tray to her chest like a shield, clearly caught between concern and professionalism-cringing as their eyes met.

Turning back, Misato realized she had stood up at some point and was leaning halfway across the table, towering over the seated Commander.

Misato had long dreamed of this moment: finally confronting her father and avenging herself for everything he’d put her through.

And now here she was. The inevitable had come to pass…but what had she accomplished? The righteous indignity that had burned within her was dwindling even as she tried to grasp at it, and in its wake she found only fumes and exhaustion.

Below her, the elder Katsuragi shielded his face from the onlookers with a hand to his temple, his weary features etched with a painfully familiar expression.

He wasn’t humiliated-no, he was embarrassed.

_Shinji_ _’s wrong. He knows how to deal with me, he’s just ashamed to._

The revelation sapped what little energy she’d been using to hold herself, and, defeated, the pilot of Unit-01 slumped into her seat, hands limp at her at her sides.

Time passed around Misato-seconds, minutes, hours, it didn’t matter- and somewhere in front of her the Commander began talking again, his tone reverted back to its usual timber.

“Next week,” he said with deliberate calm. “It’s the anniversary of your mother’s death.”

_My mother. Your ex-wife._

  
A memory came to her at the thought, utterly unwanted-as most memories seemed to do.

Atop a grassy hill, a shrine Misato doubted she’d ever grow taller than, overlooked a field of its smaller brethren. At its base, her mother’s immortalized smile beamed outward from behind a small set of glass doors for all to see.

Misato hated that monument, with how it obnoxiously drew the eyes of everyone within its sight. She hated the blue skies above the graveyard that was always bright, always sunny, and always willingly ignorant of the suffering beneath them.

But most of all, she hated the frozen smile plastered on perfect skin- both of which the doctors and their poison had long since taken away.

“I’m not going,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not going,” she repeated. “What’s the point? She’s dead, buried, rotting. And what use is a fancy grave anyway? Why the picture? It’s not like she can appreciate it.”

He looked up, brow raised, and it took Misato a moment to comprehend that her thoughts had manifested as words.

_I_ _’m really losing it today, aren’t I? But I was the one who insisted on this…I did this to myself._

“It’s so the other visitors can appreciate her beauty, and know that she was loved,” he said in a measured tone.

“Who cares what they think?” Misato countered, shaking her head. “They didn’t know her and they never will!”

The teen kept shaking her head, but the grave and its fake smile persisted.

“Even I barely remember her…” her stomach gurgled, but to her it sounded like her mother trying not to drown as she struggled to sit up. “All I can see is how she was before they took her…just skin and bone.”

“Be happy to know she passed away peacefully.”

Misato stilled, then lifted her head to analyze her forbearer despite how much it hurt to do so. The answer to the question that came to her could only be found in his face, not his words.

“What were her last words?”

His eyes fled from hers, and his throat contracted to swallow nothing.

“She wanted you to be grow strong and healthy.”

“You weren’t even there?” Misato whispered. “Were you?”

The Commander’s face continued to put on its spastic show, but ultimately it was the silence that condemned him.

“She died alone, didn’t she?” Misato heard herself say. “Why am I not surprised…”

She wanted to wanted scream, wanted the anger from earlier to make a grand return, filling her until she felt her nails bite into her palms and her fist crunch into his face! Everything within her cried for this outcome, this destiny!

And yet, like before, the rage kept its distance, making vague notions that it would keep her in mind until next they met.

_Beating on him is pointless, anyway,_ she reasoned. _He_ _’d only be embarrassed that I caused another scene._

A series of cheerful chirps jarred Misato to attention, just in time for her to see The Commander scramble to grab his phone from his pants.

“Hello? Yes, but I’m busy with…No…no, yes…go on…”

The man’s eyes drifted to her, dry lips and tongue already on the cusp of forming some excuse. This she had anticipated, but now the routine had worn deep enough into that it finally hit bone.

  
“-Just go,” she grunted. “Go and fuck off to your budgeting and your infrastructure and whatever else you do. I don’t care.” 

The Commander hesitated, but Misato didn’t spare him so much as a glance when finally rose to his feet and murmured something to the lingering waitress.

Misato did however look out window as she caught sight of his hunched shoulders exit the building and strode to his black car.

Next to the black car, a girl waited for him, touching his arm as he approached.

“I don’t care…”

* * *

As it turned out, Misato wasn’t the only thing that had been exhausted by lunch.

Her phone didn’t so much as attempt to boot up and die-it simply stayed dead, and its owner quietly envied its ability to not even bother.

A glance at the clock above the front desk told her the Commander and pilot had “touched base” for a grand total of ten minutes, while she had lingered for close to an hour-a new record for both of them.

Ignoring the concerned look of the staff she left behind, Misato stepped out of the shadow of the restaurant’s awning and found no one waiting for her- no black vans, no expressionless agents, no girl with concern plastered across her face.

In their place, the denizens of Tokyo-3 flowed around Misato like a stream, the majority sidestepping around her without pause-though a few in the river spared her a brief glance.

All in all, willfully oblivious or not, no one stopped to talk to her.

It wasn’t as though she could blame them, however; everyone before her was a stranger with no obligation to give her the time of day.

And that’s all they were really were, whether she was looking down from atop her Eva or head-on at street-level: strangers-thousands upon thousands of strangers, who didn’t know her name, and likely didn’t care to.

In the midst of all this humanity. Misato realized she had never felt more alone in her life.

“I don’t care I don’t care…I-”

“Hey, twerp! Misato! Earth to Misato!”

  
The girl turned, and her ears were assailed by a honk from a red car that had managed to pull up beside her. Dazzled by the sleekness of its design, and its apparent ability to sneak up on her, Misato took in the vehicle fully.

It quickly became apparent why the crimson Porsche 911 had managed to go unnoticed-the rumble of its engine so quiet as to be a purr. Furthermore, its chassis hung low to the ground that she was sure she would’ve missed the car entirely if her head wasn’t tilted her downward. The low frame also allowed Misato the height needed to look down at a set of vaguely foreign features.

The woman in the driver’s seat adjusted her shades, revealing lake-blue eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Do you need a lift, or what?” Inspector Sohryu asked.

“I…” Misato looked up the street, to where the train station lay hidden behind a few skyscrapers. If she strained against the heaviness that weighed down part of her body, getting back home would take her half an hour-but that also was contingent of the train being there when she arrived. That said, even if she did win the fight against her body and luck favored her, the prospect of being trapped in a metal box with dozens of strangers was downright repugnant.

The girl shuddered under the summer sun and turned away from the city, “I do need a lift. Thank you.”

“Then get in already.”

Misato obeyed, and the car bullied its way into traffic before she had time to put on her seatbelt.

“…or base.”

“Huh?”

“Pay attention would ya?” Sohryu scoffed. “I said home, or base. Where do you want to go?”

The answer wasn’t immediate to Misato, but when it did present itself, she couldn’t help but grimace.

Going anywhere near the Geofront invited the risk of potentially running into The Commander again. However, going home meant being alone, since Kaji was likely out with his friends by now, or doing whatever he did in his own time.

There was always the chance the boy was still home, but exposing the wretched state she was in made her skin crawl; she didn’t need pity, The Commander had given her enough of that already.

With those two choices eliminated, Misato was confronted with the only real option: walking the street until she found a cafe to hide herself in, scarfing down sweets until the sun went down, or she was kicked out.

“Twerp?”

“Neither,” Misato decided. “Just pull over when you have the chance. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Like hell I will. Shinji would nag my ear off if I left you wandering the streets like a bum,” Asuka said. “I’ve got shit to do at my place so you can crash there for now.”

Misato took a moment to consider; the offer was kind, despite its thorny wrapping.

“Thank you, again.”

Asuka nodded and pressed a button on the steering wheel. A beep came through the speakers, followed by the opening beats of a pop song.

Misato cocked her head to the side, recognizing the song from what she heard coming from the Shinji’s room sometimes. She never paid enough attention to remember the lyrics, so she made due with humming along, and out of the corner of her eye saw Asuka raise an eyebrow.

Misato focused her full attention on the woman without moving her head; here was yet another mystery she was familiar with.

How much did she know about Inspector Sohryu? Far less than she did Shinji, that much was certain.

Compared to the Major, Inspector Sohryu didn’t seem the type to open up with a simple prodding, and she likely didn’t have any patience for such attempts to begin with.

“I’m guessing lunch with the Commander went to shit,” Asuka said.

Misato looked up, and was redirected to a rear-view mirror with a tap of a chewed fingernail.

Even at a glance, the answer was self-evident-her reflection was a far cry from the one that had navigated out of trouble that morning. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her eyes bloodshot, and her upper lip was crusted over with a noticeable layer of snot. Yet worst of all, her less than desired features easily conjured The Commander’s own tired face to mind.

The girl shrank back from the parody, trying to clean herself up as best she could.

“I…I hate him,” she said quietly. “…my father. I hate him.”

The words weren’t quite as liberating as had expected-a trifle in comparison to her initial outburst in the restaurant-but Misato felt a weight lift from her chest.

Asuka snorted as she accelerated past a yellow light, “Congrats on joining the club.”

Misato looked up, “You too?”

The woman scowled, then flicked her wrist dismissively.

“Same reasons you do.”

Misato bit the inside of her cheek, not quite sure what to do with this new knowledge. Asuka was talking at least, though she couldn’t quite tell if the woman was annoyed at her, or just in general.

“Does…anyone like their father?”

“Normies, apparently,” Asuka answered. “Hold on, I’ve gotta text The Idiot.”

‘The Idiot’ in question could only be Shinji, given that’s what the redhead seemed to favor calling him. How the ill-suited nickname came to be was another mystery Misato added to her growing list, though she did know its bearer never seemed to take offense at it.

To Misato’s surprise, Asuka whipped out her phone and started typing one-handed, something she was sure her Shinji would’ve abhorred.

“You really shouldn’t text and drive,” Misato admonished.

Her complaint met with rolled eyes, “You a narc or something?”

“No, but-”

The car swerved, the sudden motion pressing Misato into the passenger door as they skirted within inches of an oncoming truck. A burst of honks and curses chased the porsche, and were swiftly swallowed by a cloud of road-dust-but not before Asuka threw back her head and added to it.

“Fick dich auch, arschloch!”

The woman continued to grumble foreign swears as Misato clutched her chest.

“I really should know better than assume other people can drive,” Asuka growled, throwing the phone in the backseat. “See in Germany, we’ve got something called standards when it comes to getting your license.”

Misato merely nodded, unwilling to distract the woman further.

Before them, the streets quietly gave way to the turnpike, and within moments Asuka’s crimson bullet of a sports car openly flirted with the speed limit as it weaved past its inferiors. The journey was remarkably free of any sharp turns or foreign curses, and soon the world dimmed around Misato as exhaustion set into her marrow-though by the transition of gray blurs and smears into green and brown, she could tell they were leaving the city far behind.

Time floated by, and the vehicle resentfully slowed to 40km as it exited the express lane passing through the guts of a suburb.

True to Misato’s gut-feeling about the redhead, her home was big and expensive looking, appearing even more so in the way it sat alone on a hill overlooking a dead end street with no neighboring houses on either side. Even the building’s curtained windows gave off the impression of open contempt as they pulled into the driveway.

“Don’t touch anything until you’ve washed hands,” Asuka said, rounding the car to pop open the trunk. “Last thing I need is your snot all over my stuff.”

Misato bristled and stuck her tongue at the woman’s lowered head, “I’m a soldier, not a child.”

“Whatever you say, _child-_ soldier.”

With a case of beer in each hand, Asuka fiddled with the door handle until it finally turned, then promptly turned sideways to squeeze between boxes stacked neck-high on either side of the frame. Misato followed, and soon discovered the tunnel of boxes continued all the way down the entryway, only subsiding-not ceasing-until they reached the living room, where the packages occupied every available surface.

The redhead pointed down an adjacent hall, “Hurry and wash up before Shinji accuses me of beating you or something.”

Misato continued to bristle, but followed along, and found the bathroom thankfully devoid of boxes, though the countertop was crammed with all sorts of lotions, soaps and creams of varying size, shape and color.

The teen returned to the living room, and found her host settling into a recliner with a beer.

“Take those,” Asuka pointed to the table, where a blister pack of two yellow pills sat next to a glass of water.

“…For?”

“Cramps,” Asuka said, popping off a bottle cap on a groove in the table-one of many, Misato noted. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“Oh…thanks.”

Misato plopped onto the couch opposite the German and downed the pills, then tried in vain to find a coaster for her glass.

“So,” Asuka propped her feet up on the table. “How’s Kaji been?”

“He’s alright,” the teen said, lifting her glass to obscure her blush. “Still trying to grow a beard.”

Asuka snorted, “Shinji hasn’t taught him to shave yet? I’m surprised.”

“He said something about not wanting to step on Kaji’s personal style, whatever that means.”

“Tch, boys will be boys,” Asuka snorted again and twirled a lock of hair. “How’s the major idiot himself?”

Misato chewed her lip at the question. Asuka wasn’t her father, poking about their lives for whatever reason, and as Kaji had pointed out last night Shinji’s business was still his own.

That said, now she had distance away from her caretaker, his sudden mood swings were…concerning, to say the least.

“He’s doing what he does, although he seems…distracted, at times.”

“Let me guess,” Asuka took another swig and rolled a shoulder. “He’s trying to keep up appearances while trying to not look like he’s not drowning in paperwork. Meanwhile, he gets all moody if you say the wrong thing.”

Misato nodded, enthused the Inspector had hit the nail smack-dab on its head, “Yeah, actually.”

“Typical. He couldn’t be Shinji-like if he tried.”

_So they really are old friends, huh?_

Sipping her water, Misato set her tone to neutral, and cast out a lure.

“Hey, you knew Shinji before he worked at Nerv, right?”

The redhead stopped drinking and fixed her with a look.

“Obviously.”

“What was he like before he joined?” Misato asked. “He doesn’t really talk about himself much.”

It was a fib of course, especially given the talk in the restaurant, but what difference would it make if Asuka knew or not?

“Well, we were neighbors up until middle school and I’ll tell you right now, he was even worse back then, if you can believe it,” Asuka scowled, leaning back. “He always tried to stay out people’s way so he wouldn’t have to engage with the world or take responsibility when things went to shit.”

“Then his mother died…and he moved away…”

“Anyway, we ended up running into each other in Antarctica, also known as a slice hell in the middle of fucking of nowhere,” Asuka stretched. “No doubt even The Idiot bitched to you about that god-awful place.”

_Antarctica?_ Misato searched her memory, and stumbled upon the name dwelling in a vague impression of a history class. _Isn_ _’t that place gone?_

The question was in the middle of rolling off her tongue, but Asuka kept talking, oblivious.

“Skip ahead half a decade and we met _again_ on the _Over The Rainbow_ ,” she said, finishing off her beer while reaching for another. “And the rest is history.”

Misato remembered that meeting all too well: Shinji’s discomfort upon seeing Asuka, the gruff old captain and his pup with the ascot, Kaji nearly falling over board trying to flirt with Kiyomi.

Had that really only been two months ago since that fateful day? In comparison to the two adults, her relationship to Kaji was downright infantile. As a matter of fact, it was older than Misato herself.

“That’s a long time to know someone,” Misato said.

“Yeah, and the sky’s blue,” Asuka huffed. “What of it?”

“Nothin’, just sayin’.”

Asuka shrugged, then fixed her gaze on Misato.

“Hey, your boss isn’t hanging out with any weirdos is he? Any skanks? Pretty boys?”

“No,” Misato said, recalling Mana’s radiant smile and tasteful dress. “No one like that.”

“You sure about that?”

“Well…”

_Mana_ _’s smile was the brightest when she was touching the Major, and I’m still pretty sure they slept together._

“…I mean…”

Asuka narrowed her eyes, and with what could only be practiced ease, grabbed a beer, popped the cap on the table’s edge, and slid it Misato’s way.

Misato caught the bottle, looking down its narrow neck in fascination before she turned back to the woman.

“Consider it a bribe. I won’t tell if you don’t,” Asuka jabbed a finger at Misato’s face. “And don’t you dare tell him I’ve been drinking either. I know where you sleep, twerp.”

Misato touched the cool brown glass and its label plastered with what she presumed to be German-and couldn’t deny she was curious. As with sex, drinking was another adult habit that had at some point seeped into her mind and clung there like mold.

That the drink was being presented to her in secret, like her deeds with Kaji, added to the thrill rising within her.

_Besides,_ Misato thought. _I don_ _’t want to seem ungrateful after all she’s done for me._

The teen raised the beer with a firm grip, and Asuka completed the toast.

Despite what Misato had expected, the beer went down smoothly, and causeda mild warmth tospreadout from her center-a welcome parallel of her period pains from earlier.

_The aftertaste kinda sucks, but I could get used to this._

“Slow down, kid,” Asuka reached forward to slap on the shoulder. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“I-It’s good,” Misato said, stifling a belch with her hand.

“Damn right it is! Had to drive halfway across the whole damn city to find a decent place that imported. I swear Second Impact must’ve somehow destroyed all of Japan’s good distillers.”

Encouraged, Misato went at the bottle again, nearly emptying it before Asuka raised a hand.

“Now talk.”

“Well, yesterday…” Misato used the time it took to swallow to carefully choose her words. “…There was this woman in the school parking lot, talking to Shinji. They seemed close, and he said she was an old friend, like you and Aida-san. Said all of you served in the same unit.”

In a heartbeat, all the air around seemed to be sucked out of the room, leaving Misato to watch in growing apprehension as the Asuka’s pensive face smoothed into a familiar mask of inhuman vacancy, her bright blues dulling to the color of well-water reflecting rain clouds.

There it was-another scab she had somehow managed to gouge open.

_Why does this keep happening? Are my words really that harmful? Or is this just the consequence of knowing someone?_

Lost within her thoughts, the pilot was left unprepared as Asuka leaned forward and fired off a barrage of questions.

“What’d she look like? What was her name? Was she dressed in uniform?”

“B-brown hair, good looking, but in a plain kind of way,” Misato stammered out. “Said her name was Mana.”

“Stay there,” Asuka rose to her feet and stomped down a hallway, heels clacking against the wood floor.

The far off sound of things being shuffled and knocked over filled the house, then moments later the German returned, thrusting a picture frame at Misato’s face.

“She look like this?”

It took her a moment of adjusting to the haze settling over her mind, but Misato quickly realized she was looking at the same photo as the one from Shinji’s.

All the same people were still smiling, or scowling-although the perspective had changed dramatically.

This picture wasn’t folded.

Misato’s eye immediately honed in on the pale arm around Shinji’s shoulder, which now had a body attached and a face to go along with it. Said face smiled mischievously at her, its red eyes stared back, hiding a secret.

_So the mystery person is a pretty boy. Huh_ _…no, he’s beautiful._

The teen had little time to dwell on the thought as Asuka’s finger a nail tapped against it, making the teen jump in her seat, “Pay attention! Is _this_ her?”

The finger lifted and a young Mana peeked out from beneath, unperturbed by the treatment.

“Y-Yeah, that’s her. That’s who we saw.”

The picture was taken back and tossed to the floor, where it skittered before hitting a wall.

  
“What did they talk to about?”

“I didn’t overhear them,” Misato shifted in her seat. “But it sounded like she asked him to think something over…”

The flesh around Asuka’s mouth curdled into a snarl, and in that moment, Misato became acutely aware that even if she screamed, there was little doubt anyone in the surrounding cul-de-sac would hear her.

“ _And?_ ”

“I think they had dinner last night or something because Shinji didn’t come back ‘til morning,” the teen blurted out. “Like I said, it’s none of my business.”

“I see…” the snarl quivered, warped, before finally settling into a flat line. “Whatever, let that idiot do whatever he wants, _whoever_ he wants. Like you said, it’s none of your business, right? It’s none of mine either.”

The redhead plopped down on the sofa, reached for another beer, and finished it off with three long gulps.

“What do I care? I don’t care, that’s what.”

Misato kept silent.

“Listen, Misato, if Mana shows her face again you call me, alright?” Asuka pointed her bottle at Misato like a dagger. “And if she asks you or Kaji anything about Nerv or piloting, play dumb. That’s an order, understand?”

Part of Misato doubted Inspector Sohryu had the authority to actually issue such an order-she was just an inspector after all, whatever that meant-but her seething face brooked no argument. Even so, the rest of her had little doubt the redhead would carry out whatever retribution followed disobedience.

“Alright,” Misato conceded. “But who is she? Shinji said you guys were friends, right?”

Asuka’s reply was instantaneous, “She’s a bitch and we are not, emphasis on _not_ , friends. That’s all you need to know.”

Misato sipped the remainder of her beer, washed down the lingering bitterness with some water, and mulled over what sort of person the fuming redhead would consider a bitch. Surely, whoever this Mana woman was couldn’t be that bad?

“And another thing-”

The words were cut off as knock resounded through the house, followed by several more in quick succession.

“Asuka! Are you home? Asuka!”

Asuka glowered at the direction of the noise, then rose to her feet and stomped down the hallway. Misato followed suit-or at least attempted to. She had definitely willed her body to stand, but the entire thing lagged behind the command, and she flopped back onto the couch.

_Feels kind of like piloting_ _…but I’m piloting myself._

Confused and increasingly nauseous, Misato made due with craning her neck towards the door, and was just in time to see Asuka pull it open to reveal a wide-eyed Shinji with his fist raised.

“What do you want Ikari, besides a lesson in etiquette?” Asuka said.

Shinji’s face scrunched at the question, confusion briefly overpowering urgency before twisting back into place.

“I want to know why Misato got picked up by someone matching your description in a car that matched yours, and why you aren’t answering your phone.”

“First off, don’t you _dare_ yell at me in my own home,” Asuka spit out, jamming a finger into his chest. “Second, just how many _redheads_ driving _red_ cars are there in this entire country, Shinji?”

“That’s why I’m-I’m not y-Why are you-” Shinji dragged his hand across his face. “Look, I’m not here to argue with you. Is Misato here or not?”

“Of course she is. I texted you like an hour ago saying I picked up her,” Asuka waved a hand behind her. “You’re welcome, by the way. I found her wandering the street like some urchin.”

“You _didn_ _’t_ text me.I would’ve seen it since I’ve been trying to callyou for the past half an hour.”

“Bullshit! I-” The rest of the sentence disintegrated as the woman patted her pockets, then sucked her teeth. “Fick mich.”

“Um,” Misato called out, flopping an arm over the edge of the couch. “I’m right here, Shinji-san.”

Shinji looked over Asuka’s shoulder, then pushed past her, nearly toppling a dozen boxes-and their fuming owner-in the process.

“Thank god,” he said. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you go home?”

Misato looked away. Normally he towered over her-the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder-but with her now sitting down, she felt decidedly small.

“M-My phone died…and I wanted to be alone.”

  
Her caretaker started to say something, but that diminished to a sigh as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“And this is why I always tell you to charge your phone-”

“I know.”

“-f there’d been an accident? Or one of those doomsayers had grabbed you. Or-”

  
“Jesus Christ Shinji, will you just relax,” Asuka cut in, moving to stand beside the man. “We were just having some girl time.”

Shinji sighed again, “Look, I’m sorry. I was just worried something had happened. You watch the news, don’t you?”

“Well nothing did happen, so give it a rest already, idiot.”

Shinji shook his head and began to straighten, but his ascent slowed as his head tilted to take in the bottles on the table.

“Asuka…isn’t it a little early for you to be self medicating?”

“That’s rich coming from you,” she waved her hands at the boxes surrounding them. “And stop looking at my stuff. I’ll get to it, so stop judging me. I know you are-I can practically _feel_ it. And before you ask, your stupid bird isn’t in one of the boxes. I’m still fighting those dummkopfs in the Customs department.”

“I know, I know, everything has its place, everything has an order,” Shinji raised his hands, palms. “Thank you for trying anyway.”

“If you know then shut up. Or man up and help me like you always say you will.”

As the adults argued, Misato made another attempt at standing-but again, her body betrayed her, choosing instead to stagger sideways.

Shinji reached out, catching her under the arm.

“You alright there?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Just, uh, got up too fast. Think it’s vertuh…” she grasped for the word even as it slipped around her tongue. “Vertuh…Veeerrr…ver-ti-go? Yesh, Vertigo.”

Misato nodded to herself, admittedly a little frustrated but proud she’d overcome this latest challenge in her life. Vocabulary had never been her forte, but by God she’d done it!

Beside her, Shinji hunched down, his worried expression making clear he didn’t share in the feeling.

“Misato-chan…Did you any of drink of those beers?”

The girl turned away, and but couldn’t escape how she could feel her rising pulse throb under his grip. Averting her eyes also had the unintended affect of putting Asuka right in the center of her view-her hands balling into fists at her side as she stepped forward.

“Nope.”

  
“Misato,” he said slowly. “Please tell me the truth.”

“Shinji, listen-”

“Inspector Sohryu, I am talking to a pilot under my care,” he said, not turning to face her. “What you have to say can wait.”

“Now, Misato-chan, I’ll ask you again, and I promise you won’t get in trouble if you tell me the truth,” he grabbed a bottle and presented it to her. “Did you drink from any of these beers?”

“Y-yes,” Misato stammered, unable to look at the redhead fidgeting beside them.

“How much did you drink?”

“Just one.”

He put the bottle down and picked up the empty blister packs, turning it over with his fingers as he examined the small print.

“And these? What are these?”

“Their painki-”

“Asuka, enough,” the pills took the place of the bottle before Misato’s eyes. “Misato-chan, did you take these with the beer.”

“I drank water too!” she pointed at her glass, half-full. “I know you’re supposed to do that. I’m not stupid!”

“I’m not saying you’re stupid,” Shinji grimaced, eye twitching. “Did you eat anything at the restaurant after I left?”

“No, everything shmelled gross.”

“How do you feel? Are you nauseous? Can you see straight?”

“I’m fine,” she asserted. She could understand his concern, but the continued back and forth was starting to get on her nerves, “Really I am, so let go of me already.”

Shinji loosened his grip and straightened, leaving her to wobble as he raked his fingers through his hair.

“Misato-chan, I want you to wait in the car. There should be a water bottle in the glove compartment. Drink it.”

“I said I’m fi-”

“Misato,” the words rolled out an inexorable tide, sweeping everything else aside with the ease of a oncoming wave. “Get in the car-

“Shinji-”

“Drink the water-”

“I-”

“-Wait for me.”

“But-”

“Pilot Katsuragi, that was a direct order!”

Misato looked up in shock as Shinji drew himself to full height and crossed his arms. His face may as well have been carved from stone. It was the same face he’d worn. The same face he wore.

“Go. Drink. Wait. I will not repeat myself again. Do you understand?”

The man's face might as well been brick wall for all the humanity it projected. It was the face he wore when taking charge of the Command Center, and the same whenever an angel-the enemy, the adversary, the driving force that had uprooted her quiet life and wanted the remainder in flame-attacked.

And now, the third child bore brunt of that cold stare, and seethed in defiance.

_How dare you look at me like that? I_ _’m not the enemy. I’m-_

_‘-You’re causing a scene. Control yourself.’_

The third child rocked on her heels as the words punched through her; she staggered, but no one was there to catch as the back her knee collided against the table and she fell on her ass.

A shadow fell over Misato, but she pushed past it-rising voices chasing at her heels as she made for the exit. Unfortunately, her escape from the shadow and the voices met with dead end as she tried to work the locks on door with trembling fingers.

“God, what is your problem! You always make a big deal out of everything!”

“The big deal is that the Commander is already on my ass for losing track of her, and now she’s drunk enough she can barely stand.”

“Well he’s not going to find out that last part, so what’s the big deal?”

“Asuka, the whole reason I tried calling you is because Ayanami wants to do more blood tests for some experiment she’s running, something you would’ve known if either of you had just picked up the phone…but even if there weren’t any tests, what would you have me do there was an attack right now? Field a pilot who can’t walk straight? She’d do more damage to the city than the angel.”

There was a pause, and Misato held a ragged breath, imagining the blare of the alarm, the people rushing to their shelter, the smell of blood as she took in LCL.

“Look, you made your point. I fucked up, I admit it,” Asuka grunted. “But this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t smother them so much she’d rather wander the streets than go home.”

“I don’t smother them, Asuka, I’m _responsible_ for them,” Shinji fired back. “And this is just one example of why they chose me to look after them, not you.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t handle a couple of snot-nosed brats!?”

“I’m saying that you couldn’t handle getting out of bed on a good day!”

“Well at least I’m not being lured in by that slut Mana, again!”

“How do you-No, no of course you of all people would know, _Inspector!_ _”_

“…You’re always doing this, always sticking your nose in other’s people’s lives and taking what you want without thinking…you haven’t cha-”

Misato covered her ears and the words finally, mercifully stopped. However, she couldn’t escape the feeling of déjà vu that had already begun to crash over her, driving her to knees.

All of this had happened before: the arguing, the fumbling of locks, the covering of her ears. All this she was certain of-just as she was certain that it was all her fault, both in past and present.

Misato lurched back down the hallway, blindly stumbling over boxes until she reached the source of her pain.

“Stop it. Just stop it! Please!”

“Misato, I told you to-”

“Shinji-”

The angel alarm boomed through the windows, rattling the house’s bones as it obliterated their words. 

* * *

Despite having been fielded for almost every angel attack thus far, Misato had never been driven _into_ the city during one-and she quickly discovered that it presented its own logistical nightmare.

A great number of people had done their part in making for the shelters throughout the city, but the remainder had fled-on foot, or in their cars. The total number of these people was tiny in comparison, but there were enough of them that Shinji had been forced to swerve around more than a few corner-cutting speedsters taking advantage of the empty streets, who seemed to deaf to the siren he’d affixed on his car.

Said siren worked in tandem with the angel alarm to aggravate Misato’s burgeoning headache, to the point they had pulled over twice so she could try, and fail, to vomit up her misery and shame-all while her CO’s eyes darted between her and the creature descending from the heavens.

Even from a distance, the angel was difficult to look at; its undulating body akin to a snake fused with a puzzle cube of glass trying to solve itself faster than their eyes could follow. Any effort on her part to analyze the thing, to spot some opening in its dizzying configuration, had triggered a third round of dry-heaving, but by then she was already being pulled through the guts of Nerv and into her Eva.

Changing into her suit had presented its own ordeal-her normally functioning fingers rendered useless from nerves, guilt and the lingering alcohol in her system. The shaking had gotten bad enough that Ritsuko, already suited up and waiting, had offered a hand, leaving Misato to swallow her pride and accept it.

In the end, her suit troubles and her pride were of little consequence; after the briefing, Shinji had taken her aside and told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was to serve as back up.

So here she sat-the pilot with the highest sync ratio, the most combat experience, and the best kill record-sidelined; _benched_.

_Little Miss Perfect will get the job done. She_ _’ll clean up your mess and everyone will flock to her. Father, Shinji, Kaji, everyone._ A voice-far too similar to Misato’s own-chimed in her head. _They don_ _’t need someone like you._

“Shut up,” the girl squeezed her eyes and covered her ears against the voice. “Just shut up for once.”

“Is something wrong, Pilot Katsuragi?”

Misato slammed the comm button hard enough that the sound echoed through the entry plug.

“I’m fine, Doc! What’s taking so long?”

“We will be releasing the LCL in a moment. Please standby.”

The moment came too soon, it turned out; Misato gagged as the smell of blood filled the chamber, then her lungs, and she had yet to acclimate before her display lit like a fireworks show.

“What’s going on out there!”

“Thermal energy detected! Unit 00 has been hit-”

“Right leg has suffered massive damage. Whole things been slagged. She’s a sitting duck out there!”

“Kaji, move to intercept-”

“Unit 02 is already on the move!”

“Registering another spike!”

“Unit 02 has managed to deflect the beam but has suffered damage to the sternum!”

Within an instant, the entry plug that housed Misato became a claustrophobic prison from which she couldn’t swim out of. She punched the comm. display and screamed out her frustration, “Someone talk to me!”

“Angel is preparing another attack. Wavelength of the enemy beam has changed! No thermal energy detected!”

“What do you-”

“Unit 02 has been hit! Pilot’s psychograph is showing abnormal readi-”

“-get out don’t touch him you’ve been waiting for this sorry should’ve been my fault-”

“Mental contamination confirmed! Pilot Ryoji has been compromised!”

“Eject him and send a retrieval squad ASAP!”

“Ejection signal is being rejected! We can’t reach the pilot!”

“Mental contamination?”Misato shouted. “What does that even mean!”

None of the voices answered her.

“Gah, I don’t have time for this!” Misato flipped a series of switches, and before she could draw another breath, was crushed into her seat as her Eva rocketed upward.

“Misato, get back in the elevator! The target is too far away for you to hit with your rifle. ”

“I don’t care, I’m going to ave Kaji!”

“Leave him. There’s already a rescue unit inbound to retrieve him.”

“There’s no time!”

“I said leave him! That’s an order!”

“Fuck that!”

“Misato!”

Misato barreled through the streets, through homes and small businesses, until she found Unit 02 flailing on its side at the center of what had been a four-way intersection.

“Kaji, it’s okay! I’m here! Just stop moving!”

She reached for him, but he kicked and bucked in her grasp.

“Brother brother brother run get out-”

“Kaji-

Misato’s words and Kaji’s gibberish were consumed as the world screamed through her earpiece-and she deciphered just enough of the aural chaos to look at the sky.

The angel was simultaneously unfolding and folding onto itself from seemingly infinite angles, the only focal point Misato’s eyes could track being the sun that glared through its center. The process accelerated as she watched, light darting and refracting through its innards a hundred times over, a thousand, a billion-

“Misato!”

The third child thrust her arms outward and her AT-Field sprang forth to meet the oncoming beam. The attack splashed against the ephemeral shield… and for a moment Misato felt as if she were holding the sun itself-

-then the shield failed, leaving Misato blinded, and her skin blistering under the light.

She cried out and gravity abandoned her, sending her flying, falling, spinning end over end over end over-

_CRASH!_

She felt her skull crunch as she landed heels-over-head and she retched as stars danced across her vision like pool balls in a blender.

Misato tried sucking in air to scream and received vomit-her suited fingers clawing in vain at her searing throat.

“God it’s in for my fucking eyes!”

The chorus of chaos answered her call, drowning out her pleas with its endless throats.

_Get up get up get up I have to get up! I have to fight!_

She opened her mouth to scream as her vomit tinged world became bleached out, hell-fire entering her eyes and boiling them in their sockets and-

-she felt nothing.

Nothing.

She felt no skin-blistering heat, no skull-splitting headache-and certainly no weaponized sunlight.

In fact, there wasn’t even any screaming-just the background chatter of the afternoon weatherman reminding her to bring an umbrella if she was going to be out past eight, and to keep in mind that curfew still applied.

“Misa-chan, be a dear and change the channel for me? I think I’ve had enough of the new for today.”

Misato blinked away her confusion, then looked up to take in the speaker.

The speaker was a woman reclining back in a hospital bed, humming softly as she ate from a plate of peeled oranges. Misato remembered how she had pleaded to be the one doing the peeling, having seen how the woman cringed when she worked her discolored nails against the fruit, paring as much of its skin as she did her own.

The woman, prideful as ever, had initially refused, until eventually said pride was outweighed by suffering-and so Misato had been able to feel useful, for a time.

“I…what?”

“Misato, are you listening? I swear you must’ve inherited your father’s ears.”

Misato’s vision blurred as she looked at the tuft of hair on the collar of the woman’s scrubs.

“Mother?”


End file.
